THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  THE  IXDIAK  BOY. 


OR, 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


^turg  far  goraig 


BY 


OLIVER    OPTIC, 

AUTHOR  OF   "RICH   AND   HDMBLE,"    "IN   SCHOOt,  AXD  OUT,"   "WATCH   AND 

WAIT,"     "WORK    AND   WIN,"    "THE     RIVERDALE     STORY     BOOKS," 

"THE   ARMY   AND    NAVY  STORIES,"   "THE  BOAT  CLUB," 

"ALL  ABOARD,"   "NOW   OK  NEVER,"   ETC. 


"  For  we  are  saved  by  hope."  —  ST.  PAUL. 


BOSTON: 

LEE       .A.   UST  ID       SHEPv 

(SUCCESSORS   TO   PHILLIPS,   SAMPSON  &  CO.) 

1868. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1806,  by 

WILLIAM    T.   ADAMS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts 


ELECTROTYPE!)   AT    THE 

BOSTON    STERKOTYl'E    FOUNDRY, 
4  Spring  Lane. 


ps 
\t> o 


TO 


MY    YOUNG    FRIEND, 


RACHEL     E.    BAKER, 

Kjjis   gook 

IS    AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED. 


(3) 


724433 


THE  WOODVILLE  STORIES. 

IN  SIX  VOLUMES. 

A   LIBRARY   FOR   BOYS  AND    GIRLS, 

BY    OLIVER    OPTIC. 


1.  E.ICH    .A-ISTID 

2.  IKT    SCHOOL    -A.OSTI3    OtJT. 
Q. 


(4) 


PREFACE. 


THE  fifth  volume  of  the  Woodville  stories  contains  the 
experience  of  Fanny  Grant,  who  from  a  very  naughty  girl 
became  a  very  good  one,  by  the  influence  of  a  pure  and 
beautiful  example,  exhibited  to  the  erring  child  in  the  hour 
of  her  greatest  wandering  from  the  path  of  rectitude.  The 
story  is  not  an  illustration  of  the  "pleasures  of  hope;" 
but  an  attempt  to  show  the  young  reader  that  what  we  most 
desire,  in  moral  and  spiritual,  as  well  as  worldly  things,  we 
labor  the  hardest  to  obtain  —  a  truism  adopted  by  the 
heroine  in  the  form  of  the  principal  title  of  the  volume, 
Hope  and  Have. 

The  terrible  Indian  massacre  which  occurred  in  Min 
nesota,  in  1802,  is  the  foundation  of.  the  latter  half  of  the 
story ;  and  the  incidents,  so  far  as  they  have  been  used, 
were  drawn  from  authentic  sources.  Fanny  Grant's  ex 
perience  is  tame  compared  with  that  of  hundreds  who 
suffered  by  this  deplorable  event;  and  her  adventures,  in 
company  with  Ethan  French,  are  far  less  romantic  than 
1*  (5> 


6  PREFACE. 

many  which  are  sufficiently  attested  by  the  principal  actors 
in  them. 

Once  more,  and  with  increased  pleasure,  the  author  ten 
ders  to  his  juvenile  friends  his  thanks  for  their  continued 
kindness  to  him  and  his  books ;  and  he  hopes  his  present 
offering  will  both  please  and  benefit  them. 


WILLIAM   T.  ADAMS. 


HARRISON  SQUARE,  MASS., 
July  VG,  1866. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB 
CHAP.  I.  —  The  Naughty  Girl 11 

CHAP.  II.  —  Thou  shall  not  steal. 25 

CHAP.  III.  —  Letting  the  Cat  out.         .....      39 

CHAP.  IV.  —  Fanny  the  Skipper 52 

CHAP.  V.  —  Down  the  River .66 

CHAP.  VI.  —  Kate's  Defection 79 

CHAP.  VII.  —  The  Soldier's  Family.     .         .        .  .93 

CHAP.  VIII.  —  The  Sick  Girl 107 

CHAP.  IX.  —  Hope  and  Have.        .         .         .        .         .         .120 

CHAP.  X.  —  Good  out  of  Evil 135 

CHAP.  XI.  —  Penitence  and  Pardon 148 

CHAP.  XII.  —  The  New  Home 162 

CHAP.  XIII.  —  The  Indian  Massacre 170 

CHAP.  XIV.  —  The  Indian  Boy 190 

CHAP.  XV.  —  The  Conference 204 

(7) 


O  CONTENTS. 

CHAP.  XVI.  —  The  Young  Exiles 218 

CHAP.  XVII.  —  The  Night  Attack 231 

CHAP.  XVIII.  —  The  Visitor  at  the  Island.  .        .        .241 

CHAP.  XIX.  —  The  Indian  Ambush 2;37 

CHAP.  XX.  —  Conclusion.  .    270 


HOPE   AND    HATE 


OR, 

FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS. 


CHAPTER     I . 

THE     NAUGHTY     GIRL. 

"  Now  you  will  be  a  good  girl,  Fanny  Jane, 
while  I  am  gone  —  won't  you  ?  "  said  Fanny  Grant, 
who  has  several  times  before  appeared  in  these 
stories,  to  Fanny  Jane  Grant,  her  namesake,  who 
has  not  before  been  presented  to  our  readers. 

"  O,  yes,  Miss  Fanny ;  I  will  be  ever  so  good ; 
I  won't  even  look  wrong,"  replied  Fanny  Jane, 
whose  snapping  black  eyes  even  then  beamed  with 
mischief. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  don't  mean  what  you  say," 
added  Miss  Fanny,  suspiciously. 


12  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  I  mean  every  word  of  it,  and  more 
too." 

"  You  make  large  promises ;  and  I  find  when 
you  promise  most,  you  perform  least." 

"  But,  certain  true  as  I  live,  I  won't  do  a  single 
thing  this  time,"  protested  Fanny  Jane.  "  Won't 
you  believe  me  ?  " 

"  You  have  deceived  me  so  often  that  I  do  not 
know  when  to  trust  you." 

"  I  have  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  and  I  mean 
to  be  just  as  good  as  ever  I  can  be." 

"  If  you  are  not  good,  Fanny  Jane,  I  shall  feel 
very  bad  when  I  return.  I  have  done  a  great 
deal  for  you,  and  I  hope  you  Avill  think  of  it  if 
you  are  tempted  to  do  wrong  during  my  absence. 
This  time,  in  particular,  I  wish  you  to  behave  very 
well,  and  not  do  any  mischief.  You  know  what 
father  says  about  you  ?  " 

"  He  don't  like  me,"  pouted  Fanny  Jane. 

"  When  you  are  good  he  likes  you." 

"  He  scolds  me  all  the  time." 

"  He  never  scolds  you ;  he  reproves  you  when 
you  do  wrong,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  is  very 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  13 

often  indeed.  He  says,  if  you  do  not  behave  bet 
ter,  he  shall  send  you  back  to  your  uncle  at  the 
west." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  there." 

"  But  you  must,  if  you  do  not  do  better.  He 
would  have  sent  you  before  if  I  had  not  interceded 
for  you." 

"Hadn't  what?" 

"  If  I  hadn't  begged  him  not  to  do  so." 

"  I  Avon't  be  sent  back  to  my  uncle's,  any  how," 
replied  Fanny  Jane,  sharply ;  for  the  intimations  of 
what  might  be,  roused  a  spirit  of  resentment,  rather 
than  of  penitence,  in  her  mind. 

"  We  will  not  talk  about  that  now,  Fanny  Jane. 
We  are  going  to  Hudson  to  spend  a  week.  The 
strongest  objection  to  our  visit  was,  that  you  would 
not  behave  well  while  we  were  gone." 

"O,  I  will  behave  well!" 

"We  intend  to  trust  you  once  more.  If  you 
disappoint  me  this  time,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  say 
another  word  in  your  favor ;  and  I  am  quite  sure 
father  will  send  you  off  to  Minnesota  just  as  soon 
as  we  get  back." 
2 


14  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

The  carriage  was  waiting  at  the  door;  Bertha 
was  already  seated,  and  Fanny,  having  done  all 
she  could  to  insure  the  good  behavior  of  the  troub 
lesome  young  miss  who  had  become  her  peculiar 
charge,  hastened  to  join  her  sister,  and  they  were 
driven  away  towards  the  railroad  station. 

In  the  two  tall  and  elegant  ladies,  seated  in  the 
"Woodville  family  carriage,  our  readers  would  hardly 
recognize  Bertha  and  Fanny  Grant,  for  eight  years 
have  elapsed  since  they  were  introduced,  as  chil 
dren,  to  our  young  friends.  Bertha  maintains  her 
pure  and  beautiful  character,  and  is  still  a  blessing 
to  the  family,  and  to  the  neighborhood  in  which 
she  •  resides.  Fanny  is  taller  and  prettier  than  her 
sister ;  and,  having  put  away  her  childish  follies, 
she  is  quite  a  dignified  personage. 

Mighty  events  had  transpired  since  they  were 
children,  and  the  country  was  entering  upon  the 
second  year  of  the  great  civil  war,  which  desolated 
the  sunny  South,  and  carried  mourning  to  almost 
every  household  of  the  free  North.  Richard  Grant 
had  already  distinguished  himself  as  a  captain  in  a 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     15 

popular  New  York  regiment,  of  which,  the  Ilev.  Ogden 
Newman,  whilom  Noddy,  was  the  chaplain. 

Mr.  Grant  had  retired  from  active  business,  and 
had  been  succeeded  by  Mr.  Sherwood,  his  clerk, 
who,  having  a  high  appreciation  of  the  excellent 
character  of  Bertha,  Avas  about  to  enter  into  more 
intimate  relations  with  his  employer  and  predecessor 
in  business.  Bertha  was  to  become  Mrs.  Sherwood 
in  June,  and,  as  Mr.  Grant  had  reluctantly  accepted 
a  financial  mission  from  the  government,  which 
compelled  him  to  visit  Europe,  it  had  been  arranged 
that  the  bridal  tour  should  be  a  trip  across  the 
Atlantic,  in  which  Fanny  was  to  accompany  them. 
If  the  general  conduct  of  Miss  Fanny  Jane  Grant 
had  been  sufficiently  meritorious  to  warrant  the  ex 
tending  of  the  privilege  to  her,  doubtless  she  also 
would  have  been  one  of  the  party,  for  she  had  been 
for  two  years  a  member  of  the  family. 

Fanny  Jane  was  a  distant  relative  of  the  Grants 
of  Woodville.  Mr.  Grant  had  two  cousins,  John 
and  Edward,  the  latter  of  whom  —  the  father  of 
the  wayward  girl  —  had  died  three  years  previous 
to  her  introduction  to  the  reader.  At  the  time  of 


16  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

his  decease,  he  was  in  the  employ  of  the  wealthy 
broker,  as  a  travelling  agent.  Just  before  his  death, 
which  occurred,  in  a  western  city,  while  conscious 
that  his  end  was  near,  he  had  written  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Grant,  begging  him  to  see  that  his  only  child 
was  properly  cared  for  when  he  could  no  longer 
watch  over  her. 

Edward  Grant's  wife  had  been  dead  several  years. 
At  her  decease  Fanny  Jane  had  been  committed  to 
the  care  of  her  father's  brother,  then  residing  in 
Illinois.  Mr.  Grant,  impressed  by  the  solemn  duty 
intrusted  to  him  by  his  deceased  cousin,  promptly 
wrote  to  the  child's  uncle,  who  was  dependent  upon 
his  own  exertions  for  his  daily  bread,  offering  any 
assistance  which  the  orphan  might  need;  but  no 
demand  was  made  upon  him. 

A  year  after  the  father's  death,  Mr.  Grant's  busi 
ness  .  affairs  required  him  to  visit  the  west,  and 
he  improved  the  opportunity  to  satisfy  himself  that 
the  charge  committed  to  him  by  the  dying  father 
was  well  cared  for.  On  his  arrival  he  was  not 
pleased  with  the  relations  subsisting  between  Fanny 
Jane  and  her  aunt.  Mrs.  Grant  declared  that  the 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  17 

child  was  stubborn,  wilful,  and  disobedient,  need 
ing  frequent  and  severe  punishment.  On  the  other 
hand,  Fanny  said  that  her  aunt  abused  her ;  worked 
her  "  almost  to  death ; "  did  not  give  her  good 
things  to  eat,  and  whipped  her  when  she  "  did  not 
do  anything." 

Mr.  Grant  was  a  prudent  and  judicious  man. 
He  conversed  with  each  party  alone,  and,  being 
then  in  doubt,  he  consulted  the  uncle,  John  Grant's 
testimony,  in  the  main,  confirmed  that  of  his  wife, 
though  he  was  willing  to  confess  that  the  aunt 
"  might  have  been  a  little  hard  on  the  child." 
Mr.  Grant  was  far  from  satisfied ;  he  thought  it 
more  than  probable  that  Fanny  was  wilful,  but  he 
could  not  endure  to  think  of  her  being  abused. 

The   sacred    duty   imposed   upon  him    could   not   be 

t 
trifled  with,  and,   as  the  only  method  by  which  he 

could  meet  the  demands  of  his  conscience,  he  de 
cided  to  take  the  orphan  to  Woodville  with  him. 

The  uncle  and  the  aunt,  who  had  no  children 
of  their  own,,  objected  to  this  procedure,  both  be 
cause  they  did  not  wish  to  part  with  the  child,  and 
because  her  withdrawal  from,  their  case  implied  a 


18  HOPE     AND     H.VVE,     OR 

condemnation  of  their  former  treatment  of  the 
orphan.  Mr.  Grant,  however,  succeeded  in  over 
coming  both  of  these  objections,  and  they  consented 
that  Fanny  should  remain  at  Woodville  for  two 
years ;  Mrs.  Grant  assuring  the  benevolent  broker 
that  he  would  be  glad  to  get  'rid  of  her  in  less 
than  six  months. 

Fanny  had  behaved  so  well  during  the  stay  of 
Mr.  Grant  at  her  uncle's  house,  that  he  was  com 
pletely  deceived  in  regard  to  her  real  character. 
The  presence  of  so  important  a  person  as  the 
wealthy  broker,  who  had  been  represented  to  her 
as  a  person  hardly  less  dignified  than  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  had  overawed  her,  and  put 
her  on  her  best  behavior.  Her  kind  friend,  there 
fore,  was  unable  to  realize  that  the  orphan  girl 
was  half  so  bad  as  she  was  described  to  be  by 
her  aunt. 

Edward  Grant,  while  in  the  employ  of  t.ie  broker, 
had  often  visited  Woodville,  and  being  especially 
pleased  with  the  person  and  the  manners  of  Miss 
Fanny,  had  named  his  own  daughter  after  her.  On 
the  arrival  of  the  orphan  at  her  new  home,  it  was 


FANXY  GRANT  AMOXG  THE  INDIANS.     19 

deemed  fitting  that  Miss  Fanny  should  have  the 
especial  care  of  her  namesake,  then  only  ten  years 
of  age.  Fanny  Jane,  amid  the  novelties  of  the 
great  house,  and  the  beautiful  grounds,  was  so 
much  occupied  for  a  few  weeks  that  she  behaved 
very  well ;  but  when  she  grew  weary  of  horses  and 
boats,  house  and  grounds,  she  astonished  her  young 
mistress  by  conduct  so  outrageous  that  Miss  Fanny 
wept  in  despair  over  the  miserable  failure  she  made 
in  governing  her  charge. 

Miss  Bertha  was  called  in  to  assist  in  taming 
the  refractory  subject ;  but  it  was  soon  found  that 
Fanny  Jane  had  none  of  the  chivalrous  reverence 
which  had  rendered  the  wild  Noddy  Newman  tol 
erably  tractable,  and  her  failure  was  as  complete 
and  ignominious  as  that  of  her  sister.  Mr.  Grant 
was  finally  appealed  to ;  and  •  the  sternness  and 
severity  to  which  he  was  compelled  to  resort  were, 
for  a  time,  effectual.  But  even  these  measures 
began  ^to  be  impotent,  and  the  broker  realized 
that  the  uncle  and  aunt  had  understood  the  case 
better  than  himself. 

As  a  last  resort,  he  threatened  to  send  the  way- 


20  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

Ward  girl  back  to  her  uncle,  who  had  now  removed 
to  Minnesota ;  for  it  would  be  better  for  such  a 
child  to  put  her  down  to  hard  work,  and  to  keep 
her  constantly  under  the  eye  of  her  guardians. 
This  threat  was  more  efficient  than  all  the  other 
means  which  had  been  used  to  keep  the  child 
within  the  bounds  of  common  decency ;  but  even 
this  had  grown  stale  upon  her. 

Miss  Fanny,  finding  that  her  failure  involved  no 
disgrace,  renewed  her  exertions  to  reform  her  pupil 
and  charge.  With  the  utmost  diligence  she  in 
structed  her  in  her  moral  and  religious  duties,  and 
endeavored  by  love  and  gentleness  to  win  her  from 
the  error  of  her  ways.  Sometimes  she  felt  that 
there  was  much  to  encourage  her,  at  other  times  she 
despaired  of  ever  making  any  impression  upon  her 
pupil.  Her  father  induced  her  to  persevere, 
for  he  had  hope.  He  remembered  what  Edward 
Grant,  her  father,  had  been  when  a  child ;  that  he 
was  accounted  the  worst  and  most  hopeless  boy  in 
the  town  where  he  resided ;  but  in  spite  of  this 
unpromising  beginning,  he  had  become  a  very 
worthy  and  respectable  man.  Such  a  change  might 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     21 

in  due  time  come  over  the  daughter,  and  Mr.  Grant 
frequently  impressed  upon  Fanny  the  necessity  of 
perseverance,  and  of  remitting  no  effort  to  reach 
her  pupil's  moral  and  spiritual  nature. 

If  Miss  Fanny  did  not  improve  her  pupil,  she 
did  improve  herself,  for  the  more  of  love  and  truth 
we  impart  to  others,  the  more  we  have  for  our 
selves;  making  the  very  pretty  moral  paradox,  that 
the  more  of  love  and  truth  we  subtract  from  our 
store,  the  more  we  have  left  in  our  own  heart. 

Fanny  Jane  was  undoubtedly  a  very  naughty 
girl.  We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  she  was  merely 
rude  and  unlady-like  in  her  manners ;  that  she  was 
occasionally  angry  without  a  just  cause ;  that  she 
had  a  few  bad  habits,  and  a  few  venial  faults :  she 
was  impudent  to  her  benefactors ;  she  was  untruth 
ful,  and  even  dishonest.  Not  only  to  Fanny  and 
Bertha,  but  also  to  Mr.  Grant,  she  was  openly 
defiant.  She  used  bad  language,  told  falsehoods 
by  wholesale,  and  had  several  times  been  detected 
in  stealing  valuable  articles  from  the  house. 

Yet  with  all  her  faults  and  failings,  there  were 
some  good  traits  in  Fanny  Jane,  though  they  seemed 


22  HOPE     AXD-    HAVE,     OE 

like  the  two  grains  of  wheat  in  the  bushel  of  chaff. 
What  these  redeeming  features  of  her  character 
were,  we  shall  let  our  story  disclose.  One  meet 
ing  the  wayward  girl  on  the  lawn  for  a  moment, 
or  spending  a  few  hours  in  the  house  with  her, 
would  have  been  deceived,  as  Mr.  Grant  had  been, 
for  her  black  eyes  were  full  of  animation ;  her 
manner  was  spirited,  and  her  answers  were  quick 
and  sharp.  She  was  light  and  rather  graceful  in 
form ;  she  did  not  appear  to  walk ;  she  flashed 
about  like  a  meteor.  She  was  bold  and  daring  in 
her  flights,  and  as  strong  as  most  boys  of  her  years. 
She  would  not  run  away  from  a  rude  boy ;  she 
laughed  in  the  thunder  storm,  and  did  not  fear  to 
go  through  the  glen  at  midnight. 

Bertha  and  Fanny  had  gone  up  to  Hudson  to 
spend  a  few  days  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Sherwood's 
father,  previous  to  their  departure  for  Europe.  This 
visit  had  been  talked  about  for  a  fortnight,  and  the 
wayward  girl  knew  that  it  was  to  take  place.  Con 
trary  to  her  usual  custom,  she  made  the  ^fairest  of 
promises  to  her  kind  mistress,  who,  from  this  very 
readiness,  suspected  her  sincerity ;  and  her  fears 
wore  more  than  realized. 


JTAXXY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  23 

Fanny  Jane  stood  at  the  open  door  gazing  at 
the  carriage  until  it  disappeared  beyond  the  hill. 
Her  black  eyes  snapped  under  the  stimulus  of  cer 
tain  exciting  thoughts  which  agitated  her  mind. 
When  the  carriage  could  no  longer  be  seen,  she 
slammed  the  front  door,  and  bounded  like  a  gazelle 
across  the  entry  to  the  library  of  Mr.  Grant,  which 
she  entered,  closing  the  door  behind  her. 

"  O,  yes  !  I'll  be  good  !  "  laughed  she  ;  "  I'm  al 
ways  good !  Send  me  to  my  uncle's  ?  I  should 
like  to  see  them  do  it !  I  won't  go !  There  are 
not  men  and  women  enough  at  Woodville  to  make 
me  go !  " 

Then  she  bounded  to  the  windows  in  the  library, 
one  after  another,  and  looked  out  at  each.  She 
closed  the  inner  blinds  of  one,  before  which  the 
gardener  was  at  work  on  the  lawn. 

"  I  can  do  as  Miss  Berty  did,  if  worse  comes  to 
worst,"  said  she,  throwing  herself  into  a  great  arm 
chair.  "  She  went  to  live  out,  and  had  her  own 
way,  and  I  can  do  the  same ;  but  I  won't  be  as 
poor  as  she  was.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  know  their  se 
crets,"  she  continued,  as  she  crawled  under  the 


24  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

desk,  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  pushing  the 
middle  drawer  out,  took  from  a  nail  behind  it  a 
key.  "  They  needn't  think  to  cheat  me." 

She    sprang    to    her    feet    again   with    the   key   in 
her  hand,  laughing  with  dcliglit  at  her  own  cunning. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  25 


CHAPTER     II. 

THOU     SHALT     NOT     STEAL. 

FANNY —  as  we  shall  call  her  when  she  is  not 
in  the  company  of  her  namesake  —  revelled  in  the 
possession  of  the  key,  and  congratulated  herself  on 
her  own  shrewdness  in  obtaining  it.  She  applied 
it  to  one  of  the  drawers  of  the  desk.  Though  her 
devoted  young  mistress  had  been  faithful  to  the 
last  degree  in  her  efforts  to  instil  good  principles 
in  the  mind  of  her  pupil,  Fanny  appeared  to  have 
no  scruples  of  conscience.  She  did  not  hesitate, 
did  not  pause  to  consider  the  wickedness  of  her 
acts. 

The    drawer    was    unlocked    and    opened  with    an 

eager   rather    than    a   trembling  hand.     She   seemed 

to  fear  nothing,  and  to  be  intent  only  on  obtaining 

possession  of  some  coveted  treasure.     As  she  pulled 

3 


26  HOPE     AM)     HAVE,     OR 

out  the  drawer,  she  was  startled  by  a  very  unex 
pected  incident.  A  great  black  cat,  suddenly  re 
leased  from  imprisonment,  sprang  out  of  the  drawer, 
and,  terrified  by  the  appearance  of  the  naughty 
girl,  ran  around  the  room  several  times,  and  then 
disappeared  through  an  open  window.  The  cat 
was  a  stranger  to  her ;  it  was  not  a  Woodville 
cat ;  and,  though  Fanny  was  not  frightened,  the 
presence  of  the  animal  in  the  drawer  was  suggestive. 

"  I  am  not  so  sharp  as  I  thought  I  was,"  said 
she  to  herself,  quite  soberly.  u  The  housekeeper 
must  have  seen  me  when  I  was  looking  for  that 
key;  but  she  needn't  think  I  am  afraid  of  a  cat!" 

Fanny  sneered  at  the  thought,  and  after  glancing 
at  the  window  through  which  the  cat  had  made  her 
escape,  she  turned  to  the  drawer  again,  but  it  was 
empty;  or  it  contained  only  a  great  card,  such  as 
those  used  in  the  Sunday  school,  on  which  was 
painted,  in  large  black  letters, 

THOU    SHALT    NOT    STEAL! 

This  card,  which  must  have  been  placed  there 
for  her  especial  benefit  by  some  member  of  the 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     27 

family,  rendered  it  certain  that  her  intentions  were 
suspected,  if  not  known. 

"  That's  a  gentle  hint  not  to  take  anything  from 
that  drawer,"  said  Fanny  to  herself.  "  There  is  noth 
ing  there,  and  of  course  I  must  take  the  hint ;  but 
they  can't  cheat  me.  There  is  money  somewhere 
in  this  desk,  and  I  must  have  it." 

Perhaps,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  she  would 
have  been  moved  by  the  expedient  which  had  been 
used  to  deter  her  from  stealing.  The  commandment 
of  God,  staring  her  in  the  face  at  the  very  moment 
when  she  expected  to  place  her  hand  upon  the  for 
bidden  treasure,  might  have  reached  her  conscience 
if  she  had  not  been  engaged  in  a  deeply-laid  plan 
for  revelling  in  stolen  joys.  As  it  was,  she  was 
only  disappointed  at  not  finding  the  money  which 
the  drawer  had  been  supposed  to  contain. 

"  Fanny  Jane ! "  called  Mrs.  Green,  the  house 
keeper,  from  the  entry. 

It  was  not  prudent  to  be  seen  in  the  library, 
and,  hastily  closing  the  drawer,  and  restoring  the 
key  to  the  nail  under  the  desk,  she  stepped  out  at 
one  of  the  long  windows  upon  the  piazza. 


28  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  Fanny  Jane  !  "  repeated  the  housekeeper. 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  the  guilty  girl,  entering  the 
front  door. 

"It  is  time  for  you  to  get  ready  for  school," 
added  Mrs.  Green. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  school  to-day." 

"Not  going  to  school?     Why  not,  miss?" 

"  Because  I  don't  want  to  go." 

"  I  think  you  are  going,"  said  the  housekeeper, 
firmly. 

"  And  I  think  I  am  not  going !  " 

"  Very  well ;  then  I  will  send  for  Mr.  Long," 
added  Mrs.  Green,  with  a  coolness  and  decision 
which  were  not  without  their  effect  upon  the  stub 
born  girl. 

Mr.  Long  was  a  constable,  and  outside  of  his 
official  duties,  he  was  often  employed  in  various 
miscellaneous  offices  by  Mr.  Grant.  He  lived  in  a 
small  cottage  adjoining  the  Woodville  estate.  This 
man  was  a  great  bugbear  to  Fanny,  who  had  a 
very  proper  and  wholesome  regard  for  the  strong 
arm  of  the  law. 

"  I  don't  care   for  Mr.  Long,"  said  Fanny,  shak- 


FANNY     GEANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  29 

ing  her  shoulders  in  defiance ;  but  this  was  only  a 
vain  boast. 

Mrs.  Green  rang  a  bell  for  the  man-servant  who 
was  employed  in  the  house.  This  was  more  than 
the  naughty  girl  could  endure,  for  she  knew  that 
Mrs.  Green  would  do  all  she  promised. 

"  You  needn't  send  for  Mr.  Long,"  interposed 
Fanny,  doggedly.  "  I'll  go  to  school." 

"  I  thought  you  would ;  but  you  may  do  as  you 
please." 

"  I'll  go,  but  I  want  fifteen  cents  to  buy  a  new 
copy-book." 

As  Mrs.  Green  knew  that  Fanny  needed  a  new 
copy-book,  she  did  not  object  to  this  request,  and 
went  into  the  library  to  procure  the  money.  In 
stead  of  going  up  stairs  to  prepare  herself  for 
school,  as  the  housekeeper  had  told  her  to  do, 
Fanny  went  out  upon  the  piazza  again,  and  looking 
through  the  window,  saw  Mrs.  Green  open  a  closet 
in  the  library,  and,  from  a  drawer  there,  take  out 
the  money  she  had  asked  for.  The  housekeeper 
locked  the  drawer  and  the  closet  door,  placing  the 
key  of  the  latter  in  a  vase  on  the  mantel-piece, 
3* 


30  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

and  the  key  of  the  drawer  under  one  of  a  row  of 
volumes  on  a  book  shelf.  All  these  precautions 
had  been  rendered  necessary  by  the  presence  of 
the  dishonest  girl  in  the  house. 

Fanny,  having  carefully  observed  where  the  keys 
were  placed,  ran  up  stairs,  and  presently  appeared, 
dressed  for  school.  Mrs.  Green  gave  her  the  money 
for  which  she  had  asked,  and  having  satisfied  her 
self  that  the  refractory  girl  had  actually  departed 
for  school,  she  went  up  stairs  to  attend  to  her 
usual  duties.  Fanny  went  as  far  as  the  road,  and 
then,  instead  of  turning  to.  the  left,  she  went  to 
the  right,  and  keeping  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees, 
reached  the  rear  of  the  mansion.  From  this  point 
she  crept  round  to  the  piaz/a,  from  which  she 
passed  into  the  library. 

"  She  can't  cheat  me ! "  said  Fanny,  again  con 
gratulating  herself  upon  her  own  cunning.  "  She'll 
find,  before  night,  that  I'm  too  much  for  her." 

The  wicked  girl  then  went  to  the  vase,  and 
taking  from  it  the  key,  opened  the  closet.  From 
the  place  where  she  had  stood,  she  could  not  de 
termine  exactly  under  which  book  the  key  of  the 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  31 

drawer  had  been  placed ;  but  after  raising  half  a 
dozen  of  them,  she  found  the  object  of  her  search. 
The  drawer  was  opened,  and  on  the  top  of  several 
bundles  of  papers  lay  a  pocket-book.  Her  eyes 
snapped  with  unwonted  fire  as  she  discovered  the 
prize. 

She  opened  it,  and  found  a  great  roll  of  bills ; 
in  one  of  the  pockets  there  was  a  mass  of  cur 
rency.  There  was  no  great  staring  placard,  with 
"Thou  shalt  not  steal"  printed  upon  it,  but  the 
words  seemed  to  be  spoken  from  her  own  breast  — 
seemed  to  be  thundering  in  her  soul.  But  Fanny 
was  excited  by  the  prospect  of  the  stolen  joys,  in 
which  she  had  been  revelling  in  anticipation  for  a 
fortnight,  and  she  heeded  not  the  voice  from  her 
breast,  and  silenced  the  thunder-tones  that  rolled 
through  her  soul. 

"  Shall  I  take  it  all  ? "  whispered  she,  as  she 
gazed  on  the  great  pile  of  "  greenbacks  and  cur 
rency."  "  I  may  as  well  be  hung  for  an  old  sheep 
as  a  lamb,"  she  added,  as  she  gathered  up  the 
money,  and  thrust  it  into  her  pocket. 

A    noise    in    the    entry    startled    her.     She    closed 


32  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

the  drawer,  locked  it,  and  restored  the  key  to  the 
place  where  she  had  found  it.  The  closet  door 
was  secured  in  like  manner,  and  the  key  returned 
to  the  vase.  Passing  out  of  the  library  as  she  had 
entered,  she  made  her  way  back  to  the  road,  and 
walked  towards  the  school-house.  Before  she  reached 
it,  however,  she  turned  down  a  lane  leading  to  the 
river.  It  was  a  lonely  avenue,  completely  shaded  by 
trees,  which  concealed  her  from  the  view  of  the 
people  in  the  adjoining  houses.  Increasing  her  pace 
to  a  bounding  run,  she  soon  reached  the  Hudson. 

Seated  on  a  stone,  near  the  river,  was  a  girl  of 
fourteen,  who  had  evidently  been  waiting  for  Fanny. 
In  her  hand  she  held  a  couple  of  books,  which 
indicated  that  she  also  had  be^n  s^nt  to  school. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  Why  didn't  you  come 
before  ? "  asked  the  girl,  as  she  rose  at  Fanny's 
approach. 

"  I  couldn't  come  before,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  Why  not  ? "  demanded  the  other,  whose  name 
was  Kate  Magner. 

"  No  matter  why  not,"  answered  Fanny,  rather 
testily,  for  she  was  not  yet  quite  willing  to  confess 


FANNY  GKANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     33 

what  she  had  done  in  the  library  of  the  mansion- 
house. 

"  Haven't  the  folks  gone  away  ? " 

"  Yes ;  they  all  went  off  in  the  morning  train. 
Where  is  Tom  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"  But  we  want  him ;  we  can't  get  along  with 
out  him." 

"  He  said  he  would  come." 

i 

"  But  he  is  late." 

"  So  are  you." 

"I  couldn't  help  it." 

"  I  suppose  he  can't,  either.  But  what  are  we 
going  to  do,  Fan  ? "  asked  Kate,  who  did  not  seem 
to  be  satisfied  with  the  present  prospect  of  the 
enterprise,  whatever  it  was. 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  good  time." 

"  You  said  that  before ;  but  I  want  to  know 
what  we  are  going  to  do.  You  asked  me  to 
meet  you  here  at  half  past  eight.  You  come  at 
nine,  and  I  don't  see  that  anything  is  to  be  done. 
I  shall  catch  it  for  playing  truant  from  school,  and 
all  for  nothing." 


34  HOPt;     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  You  shall  have  the  best  time  you  have  had  in 
your  life." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Why  don't  you  tell 
me  what  you  mean  to  do  ? " 

"  I  am  almost  afraid  to  tell  you,  Kate." 

"  Afraid,  of  what  ? " 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  dare  to  go  with  me." 

"  Did  you  ever  do  anything  I  was  afraid  to 
do  ? "  said  Kate,  with  a  sneer. 

"  But  this  is  a  greater  thing  than  we  ever  did 
before.  We  may  be  gone  a  long  time,  and  we  are 
certain  to  be  found  out." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  demanded  Kate,  appar 
ently  appalled  by  this  frank  statement  of  the  dif 
ficulties  of  the  enterprise. 

"  I  thought  it  would  scare  you,"  laughed  Fanny. 

"  But  it  don't  scare  me." 

"  Yes,  it  does." 

"  I  will  do  anything  that  you  dare  to  do,"  re 
plied  Kate,  stung  by  the  flings  of  her  companion. 

"  You  shall  have  the  greatest  time  that  ever 
was,  but  you  must  take  the  consequences  after  it 
is  all  over." 


FAXXY  GKAXT  AMOXG  THE  IXDIAXS.     35 

"  If  you  can,   I  can." 

"  Come  with  me,  then,"  continued  Fanny,  as.  she 
moved  along  the  bank  of  the  river  towards  the 
Woodville  landing  pier. 

"  I  won't  go  a  step  till  I  know  what  you  are 
going  to  do." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  will  back  out." 

"  No,  I  won't ;  I  solemnly  promise  you  that  I  will 
go  with  you  anywhere  you  please." 

"  I  have  got  some  money,"  added  Fanny,  in  a 
very  mysterious  manner. 

"  How  much  ?  " 

"Two  dollars." 

"  Pooh  !    that  ain't  much  !  "   sneered  Kate. 

"  Well,  I've  got  five  dollars." 

"  Have  you?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"  I  found  it." 

"  Where  ? " 

"  On  the  floor." 

Kate  probably  had  her  doubts  in  regard  to  the 
finding  of  the  money,  but  she  did  not  ask  any 


36  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

troublesome    questions,    and   repressed   whatever    ot 
righteous   indignation  might  have  risen  in  her  soul. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"  We  will  have  a  good  time  with  it." 

"  But  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

Fanny  glanced  at  her  companion,  and  hesitated 
to  reveal  the  brilliant  project,  fearful  that  it  might 
be  disapproved. 

"  We  will  go  over  to  Whitestone,  or  down  to 
Pennville,  and  buy  something.  But  where  is  Tom  ? 
We  must  have  him." 

"  What  do  you  want  of  him  ?  "  asked  Kate,  rather 
petulantly. 

"  We  must  go  over  in  a  boat,  and  we  want  him 
to  manage  it  for  us." 

*'  Perhaps  he  will  come ;    he  promised  to  do  so." 

"  WTe  will  go  up  to  the  landing-place ;  perhaps 
he  is  up  there." 

The  two  girls  walked  up  to  the  Woodville  pier ; 
but  Tom  Magner  was  not  there.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  relish  for  the  society  of  the  interesting  young 
ladies  engaged  in  a  brilliant  enterprise;  and  if  he 
had  made  any  appointment  to  meet  them,  he 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  37 

neglected  to  keep  it.  Fanny  was  very  much  dis 
appointed  at  his  non-appearance,  much  more  so 
than  the  young  gentleman's  sister,  who,  not  know 
ing  the  extent  of  the  enterprise,  was  in  blissful 
ignorance  of  its  perils  and  difficulties.  Tom  Magner 
was  an  almost  indispensable  part  of  the  plan ;  but 
the  young  knight  did  not  cbme,  and  the  project 
must  be  abandoned  or  carried  out  without  him. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  won't  come,"  said  Fanny,  after 
impatiently  waiting  for  half  an  hour. 

"  I  know  he  won't  now.  I  don't  believe  he  in 
tended  to  come  at  all,"  replied  Kate. 

"  He  is  a  mean  fellow,  then." 

"  We  can  get  along  without  him.  We  shall 
have  more  money  to  spend  ourselves." 

"  But  how  shall  we  get  over  to  Whitestone  ? " 

"  We  can  go  up  the  river  and  take  the  ferry." 

"  Yes ;  and  the  first  person  we  meet  may  be 
your  father,  or  some  of  the  Woodville  folks.  Xo, 
Kate,  we  must  not  be  seen ;  if  we  arc,  all  our  fun 
will  be  spoiled." 

"  For  my  part    I    don't   want   Tom,  or   any  other 
boy  with  us.     I  think  boys  are  hateful !  " 
4 


38  HOPE     AND     HATE,     OH 

"  So  do  I ;  but  I  only  want  him  to  manage  the 
boat.  Don't  you  think  you  could  go  up  and  find 
Tom  ?  " 

'•  I  don't   think   I    could,"   said  Kate,  indignantly. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  At  school,  I  suppose." 

"  Couldn't  you  tell  the  teacher  that  your  father 
wants  him  ?  "  suggested  "Fanny. 

"  No,  I  could  not !  I  should  be  caught  myself. 
I  believe  you  want  to  get  me  into  trouble." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't,  Kate,  for  that  would  get  me 
into  trouble.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  We  will  go  up  to  the  ferry.  We  can  see  who 
is  in  the  boat  before  we  go  on  board." 

"  I  won't  do  that  if  we  don't  go  at  all." 

And  so  the  brilliant  scheme  seemed  to  be  de 
feated  for  the  want  of  a  boatman ;  but  Fanny  was 
too  bold  and  enterprising  in  mischief  to  give  up 
without  a  struggle. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  39 


C  H  AP  T  E  R     III. 

LETTING     THE     CAT     OUT. 

"  POOH  !  I  shall  not  give  it  up  so ! "  exclaimed 
Fanny,  when  it  was  certain  that  Tom  Magner  did 
not  intend  to  join  the  party. 

"  What  will  you  do  ? "  asked  Kate. 

"  Go  to  Pennville,  of  course." 

"  How  will  you  get  there  ?  ' 

"  In  the  boat ;  we  will  take  the  Greyhound." 

"You  know  we  can't  do  anything  of  the  ( kind, 
Fanny  Grant." 

"  I  know  we  can,"  replied  the  resolute  girl. 

"  B  it  who  will  manage  her?" 

"  I  will  manage  her  myself." 

'•  You  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  know  how  to  manage  a  boat  as  well  as 
any  of  them.  I  have  sailed  enough  to  understand 


40  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

the  whole  thing,"  added  Fanny,  as  she  led  the  way 
to  the  pier,  off  which  the  sail-boat  was  moored. 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  risk  my  life  in  a  boat 
with  no  one  but  you  to  manage  it  ? " 

"  But  I  know  how  to  handle  the  boat  as  well 
as  any  one,"  persisted  Fanny.  "  There  isn't  much 
wind,  and  I'm  sure  there  is  no  danger." 

Kate  Magncr  had  a  great  many  doubts,  but  the 
vision  of  cakes  and  candy,  lemonade  and  ice-cream, 
which  her  companion's  money  would  purchase, 
tempted  her  to  yield.  The  breeze  was  apparently 
very  light,  and  it  seemed  hardly  possible  that  the 
boat  could  be  upset.  She  wavered,  and  Fanny  saw 
the  advantage  she  had  gained. 

"  If  we  don't  get  along  very  well,  we  can  hire 
some  boy  or  man  to  manage  the  boat  for  us,"  con 
tinued  the  resolute  girl,  pressing  the  point  upon 
her  yielding  companion.  "  There  are  some  men 
and  boys  fishing  over  there,  and  they  will  be  very 
glad  to  make  some  money." 

"  That  will  be  the  best  way.  If  you  will  get 
one  of  those  men  to  manage  the  boat,  I  will  go 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  41 

with  you ;  for  there  isn't  any  fun  in  being 
drowned,  or  in  being  run  over  by  a  steamboat." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  do  that,"  replied  Fanny,  her 
black  eyes  snapping  with  renewed  vigor. 

Ben,  the  boatman,  who  usually  haunted  the  pier 
and  the  boat-house  like  a  familiar  spirit,  had  added 
many  infirmities  to  his  burden  of  cares  during  the 
eight  years  which  have  intervened  since  we  first 
knew  him,  and  he  was  now  confined  to  his  house 
by  an  attack  of  rheumatism.  There  was  no  one 
near,  therefore,  to  interfere  with  the  execution  of 
Fanny's  plan.  The  Greyhound  was  moored  a  short 
distance  from  the  pier,  at  which  the  small  skiff, 
which  served  as  her  tender,  was  fastened.  The 
two  girls  were  about  to  embark  in  the  little  boat, 
when  footsteps  were  heard  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
pier. 

Fanny  started,  released  her  hold  of  the  painter 
of  the  skiff,  and  at  once  realized  that  her  brilliant 
project  was  in  imminent  danger  of  being  defeated. 
She  turned  to  observe  who  the  intruder  was,  and 
to  her  horror  and  consternation,  discovered  that  it 
was  Mr.  Long,  the  constable,  the  greatest  bugbear 
4* 


42  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

in  the  world  to  her  on  ordinary  occasions,  and 
especially  so  in  the  present  instance,  when  her 
conscience  accused  her  of  a  very  wicked  deed. 

There  was  no  opportunity  to  retreat,  for  the 
enemy  was  between  her  and  the  main  land.  She 
had  been  so  intent  upon  the  argument  with  her 
more  cautious  companion,  that  she  had  not  noticed 
the  approach  of  the  constable  until  his  feet  struck 
upon  the  planking  of  the  pier.  The  money  she 
had  stolen  was  in  her  pocket,  and  it  felt  just  like 
a  coal  of  fire,  which  was  soon  to  create  a  conflagra 
tion  that  might  burn  her  up.  She  very  much  de 
sired,  just  then,  to  get  rid  of  this  evidence  of  her 
crime,  and  she  would  have  dropped  the  roll  of 
bills  into  the  water  if  it  would  have  sunk  to  the 
bottom,  and  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  the 
terrible  man  who  was  approaching. 

Fanny  did  not  doubt  that  the  loss  of  the  money 
had  been  discovered  by  Mrs.  Green,  and  that  she 
had  sent  for  the  constable  to  arrest  her  and  put 
her  in  prison  —  a  threat  which  the  housekeeper  had 
injudiciously  made  on  a  former  occasion,  when  the 
naughty  girl  had  been  guilty  of  a  similar  fault, 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  43 

but  a  threat  which  Mr.  Grant  would  not  have  per 
mitted  to  be  carried  out.  This  terrible  punishment 
appalled  Fanny,  but  she  did  not  entirely  lose  her 
self-possession.  She  had  done  a  very  great  wrong ; 
she  had  staked  everything  upon  the  success  of  the 
present  venture.  She  was  entirely  satisfied  that  Mr. 
Grant,  on  his  return,  would  send  her  to  her  uncle 
in  Minnesota,  and  she  had  prepared  herself  for  the 
worst.  Her  object,  therefore,  was  to  escape  present 
defeat,  and  she  hoped,  cornered  as  she  was  by  the 
constable,  that  some  means  of  getting  out  of  the 
dilemma  might  bo  presented  to  her. 

"  We  are  caught,"  said  Kate,  as  Mr.  Long  moved 
down  the  pier. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Fanny,  with  more  confidence 
than  she  actually  felt. 

The  consciousness  of  being  the  leader  in  the 
enterprise  led  her  to  put  on  a  bold  face  in  order 
tj  inspire  her  friend  with  confidence,  if  for  no  other 
purpose. 

*'  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  demanded  Kate,  nervously. 

"Keep  still;  don't  you  say  a  word.'' 

"  What  are  you   doing  here,  Fanny,  at  this  time 


44  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

of  day  ? "  asked  Mr.  Long,  as  he  approached  the 
girls. 

"  I'm  not  doing  anything,"  replied  Fanny,  boldly. 

"  Why  are  you  not  at  school  ? " 

"  The  teacher  sent  us  down  to  get  some  green 
branches  to  put  over  the  clock.  We  are  going  to 
have  some  visitors  in  school  this  afternoon,"  replied 
Fanny,  promptly. 

"Did  she  send  the  other  girl,  too  ? " 

"  Yes ;  she  sent  both  of.  us." 

"  I  want  to  see  you,  Fanny ;  come  with  me," 
continued  the  terrible  constable,  beckoning  her  to 
follow  him  up  the  pier. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  a  moment." 

"  I  can't  stop  long,  for  we  must  hurry  back  with 
the  boughs,"  added  Fanny,  who  had  no  relish  for 
a  confidential  conversation  with  such  a  man,  for 
she  at  once  surmised  its  topic. 

"  Are  you  looking  for  green  boughs  out  on  the 
end  of  that  pier  ?  "  said  he. 

"  We  only  went  out  there  for  a  moment,"  pleaded 
Fanny,  as  she  followed  Mr.  Long,  but  it  was  with 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     45 

the  intention  of  darting  away  from  him  at  a  favor 
able  moment. 

But  the  constable  stopped  before  he  reached  the 
head  of  the  pier,  which  effectually  prevented  her 
retreat  unless  she  jumped  into  the  water. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me,  Mr.  Long?"  she 
asked,  with  increasing  boldness. 

"  Fanny,  you   have   been  very  bad   again,"  began 

t 

the  tormentor. 

"No,  I  haven't." 

"  Yes,  you  have ;  and  you  needn't  attempt  to  de 
ny  it." 

"  What  have  J  done  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  you  have  done." 

"  I  haven't  done  anything,"  protested  she,  speak 
ing  for  the  sake  of  speaking,  rather  than  because 
she  had  any  confidence  in  the  impression  her 
words  would  produce  upon  the  mind  of  her  tor 
mentor,  and  all  the  while  thinking  how  she  could 
break  away  from  the  constable. 

"  '  Thou  shalt  not  steal,' "  said  Mr.  Long,  impres 
sively. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  r "  demanded  Fanny. 


46  HOPE     A  XI)     HATE,     OK 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  steal?  If  you  ck\ 
you  are  very  much  mistaken." 

"  Fanny,  if  you  didn't  steal  anything,  it  was 
only  because  you  did  not  find  anything  to  steal." 

What  could  he  mean  by  that  ?  She  was  per 
plexed,  but  she  began  to  hope  that  he  did  not 
know  what  she  had  done. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  steal,"  said  she ;  and  now 
she  spoke  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  out  her  ac 
cuser,  to  ascertain  how  much  he  did  know. 

"  You  have  been  guilty  of  stealing  several  times," 
continued  the  constable,  assuming  a  very  stern  and 
virtuous  aspect. 

"  I  never  meant  to  steal  anything." 

"  But  you  meant  to  steal  this  time :  the  cat  is 
out  of  the  bag." 

The  constable's  stern  features  relaxed  a  little, 
and  there  was  something  like  a  smile  playing 
upon  his  face,  as  if  in  faint  appreciation  of  a  joke. 

"  The  cat  is  out  of  the  drawer,  if  that  is  what 
you  mean,"  said  Fanny,  laughing,  and  now  greatly 
encouraged  by  the  new  aspect  of  the  case. 

"  That  is  what  I  mean." 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     47 

"  But  I  didn't  let  the  cat  out,"  protested  Fanny. 

"Who  did?" 

"  Mrs.   Green." 

"  Fanny,  you  are  lying  to  me,  and  you  know  you 
are,"  added  Mr.  Long,  sternly. 

"  I  hope  to  die  if  it  isn't  just  as  I  say ! "  per 
sisted  the  wicked  girl,  earnestly.  "  Mrs.  Green  let 
the  cat  out  of  the  drawer,  and  I  had  a  good  laugh 
over  it." 

Fanny  began  to  laugh  very  heartily.  The  con 
stable  was  staggered,  and  it  was  evident  that  he 
was  not  smart  enough  to  deal  with  one  so  shrewd 
and  clever  as  the  wayward  girl. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ? "  asked  Mr.  Long. 

"  I  was  laughing  to  think  of  the  poor  cat  as  she 
jumped  out  of  the  drawer  and  ran  away.  What 
did  you  put  her  in  there  for  ?  Were  you  afraid 
she  would  steal  the  meat  or  the  milk?  Could  that 
cat  read,  Mr.  Long  ?  Were  you  trying  to  teach 
her  one  of  the  ten  commandments  ? " 

"  Do  you    mean    to    tell    me,    Fanny,   that    Mrs 
Green  let  the  cat  out  of  the  drawer  ? " 

*'  Yes,   she   did.      Poor   pussy  mewed   awfully  in 


48  HOPE     ANP     HAVE,    OR 

the  drawer,  where  you  put  her.  Perhaps  she  was 
saying  over  the  commandment  you  gave  her  to 
learn ;  but  Mrs.  Green  didn't  understand  her  lingo, 
and  let  her  out." 

"  Fanny,  I  am  going  up  to  see  Mrs.  Green,  and 
if  you  have  told  me  a  lie,  it  will  be  all  the  worse 
for  you,"  said  Mr.  Long. 

"  You  can  ask  Mrs.   Green  herself." 

"  I  will  ask  her.  You  meant  to  steal :  you  were 
seen  watching  Mr.  Grant  when  he  had  the  key  of 
the  drawer." 

"  And  you  set  a  trap  to  catch  me  ;  but  you 
caught  Mrs.  Green ! "  laughed  Fanny. 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  your  story ;  but  I 
am  willing  to  be  sure  before  I  do  anything." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  shall  take  care  of  you ;  you  will  know  what 
I  mean  when  I  have  proved  the  case." 

"  You  ought  to  have  told  Mrs.  Green  where  you 
put  the  cat,  for  the  poor  creature  would  have 
starved  to  death  before  I  let  her  out." 

"  We  shall  see.  Mr.  Grant  told  me  to  take  cave 
of  you  if  you  did  not  behave  yourself  while  the 


FANNT*  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     49 

family  were  away.  I  will  go  up  and  ask  Mrs. 
Green  about  this  matter,  and  if  I  find  you  have 
not  told  me  the  truth,  —  and  I  don't  believe  you 
have, —  I  shall  take  care  of  you." 

"When  shall  I  see  you  again?"  asked  Fanny, 
with  the  most  brazen  impudence. 

"  You  will  see  me  sooner  than  you  will  want  to 
see  me,  if  you  have  been  doing  wrong." 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  here  when  you  come  back. 
We  are  going  right  up  to  school  now." 

"  I  can  find  you,  wherever  you  are,"  replied  the 
constable,  confidently,  as  he  walked  away  towards 
the  mansion. 

Fanny  was  entirely  relieved  of  all  her  fears  ;  she 
was  even  jubilant  over  her  success  in  cheating  her 
persecutor.  Her  conscience  did  not  trouble  her 
now.  She  readily  comprehended  the  details  of  the 
plan  by  which  she  was  to  be  detected,  if  she  at 
tempted  to  steal  from  the  library.  Of  course,  the 
constable  would  soon  find  out  that  she  had  not  told 
the  truth,  and  that  Mrs.  Green  knew  nothing  about 
Jhe  cat  in  the  drawer. 

After  the  announcement    that  the  family  were  to 


50  Hon:    AND    HATE,    OR 

be  absent  a  week,  had  been  made,  it  was  observed 
that  Fanny  was  in  unusually  good  spirits.  Miss 
Fanny  had  detected  her  in  the  act  of  looking 
through  one  of  the  library  windows,  while  her 
father  was  paying  a  bill  in  the  room.  Mr.  Grant, 
wealthy  as  he  was,  had  always  been  very  methodi 
cal  in  his  business  affairs.  He  kept  a  sum  of 
money  in  a  drawer  for  household  expenses,  to  which 
Mrs.  Green  and  his  daughters  had  access.  When 
anything  was  paid  out  by  any  member  of  the  fam 
ily,  the  amount  was  put  down  on  a  paper  in  the 
drawer.  After  the  advent  of  Fanny  Jane,  and  after 
she  had  been  detected  in  some  small  pilfering,  the 
key  of  this  drawer  was  concealed  as  we  have  de 
scribed. 

Miss  Fanny  at  once  suspected  the  motive  of  her 
wayward  charge,  and  told  her  father  of  the  fact, 
on  the  day  before  the  departure  of  the  family  for 
Hudson.  Mr.  Grant,  more  desirous  of  reforming 
the  wicked  girl  than  of  anything  else,  consulted 
Mr.  Long.  Mrs.  Green  was  told  where  she  might 
find  money  for  the  payment  of  the  household  bills, 
and  admonished  to  be  very  careful  in  concealing 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     51 

the  keys  ;  but  nothing  was  said  to  her  about  the 
cat  and  the  commandment.  If  Fanny  did  attempt 
to  steal,  the  case  was  to  be  managed  by  the  con 
stable,  who  had  been  instructed  to  take  her  to  his 
own  house,  and  keep  her  in  close  subjection  until 
the  return  of  the  family. 

The  cat  belonged  to  Mr.  Long,  who  was  confi 
dent  that  the  animal,  when  released  by  the  act  of 
the  thief,  would  run  home,  when  her  presence  would 
inform  him  of  the  culprit's  deed.  The  cat  —  true 
to  her  domestic  instinct  —  had  run  home  ;  but  the 
constable  had  not  immediately  seen  her.  As  soon 
as  he  discovered  the  tell-tale  pussy,  he  hastened 
over  to  Woodville,  expecting  to  find  Fanny  peni 
tently  studying  the  commandment,  which  was  the 
moral  of  Mr.  Grant's  stratagem  ;  but  before  he 
reached  the  house  he  saw  two  girls  on  the  pier% 
and  recognized  Fanny  as  one  of  them. 

Willing  to  be  entirely  fair,  and  deeming  it  pos 
sible  that  Mr.  Grant's  plan  had  failed,  he  went  up 
to  the  house  to  consult  Mrs.  Green,  while  Fanny 
rushed  down  the  pier  to  join  her  companion  in. 
mischief. 


52  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OB 


CHAPTER     IV. 

FANXY     THE     SKIPPER. 

"»WHAT  did  he  want  of  you,  Fan  ? "  asked  Kate 
Magner,  with  a  curiosity  not  unmixed  with  anxiety, 
as  'her  leader  in  mischief  joined  her  at  the  foot  of 
the  pier. 

"  O,  never  mind  that,"  exclaimed  Fanny,  in  reply. 
"  We  have  no  time  to  talk  about  it  now." 

"  But  what  did  he  say  ? "  demanded  Kate,  who 
thought  her  present  action  ought  to  be  governed 
Jn  some  measure  by  the  words  of  the  constable. 

"  He  didn't  say  much  ;  it  is  all  right  now.  Come, 
jump  into  the  boat.  We .  haven't  a  moment  to 
lose." 

"  I  want  to  know  what  he  said  before  I  get  any 
deeper  into  the  mud,"  persisted  Kate  ;  but  we  are 
compelled  to  acknowledge  that  her  scruples  were 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  53 

mere  worldly  prudence,  and  were  not  called  forth 
by  the  upbraidings  of  an  awakened  conscience. 

"  You  can't  back  out  now,  Kate.  I  made  it  all 
right  with  Mr.  Long,"  replied  Fanny,  with  energy, 
as  she  drew  the  skiff  up  to  the  steps,  ready  for 
her  more  timid  companion  to  embark.  "Now,  get 
in,  and  don't  waste  another  instant  in  talking 
about  nothing." 

"  You  are  keeping  everything  to  yourself.  If 
you  don't  tell  me  what  Mr.  Long  wanted  of  you, 
I  won't  get  into  the  boat.  Was  it  about  the  money 
you  found  ?  "  asked  Kate. 

"  No ;  he  didn't  say  a  word  about  that.  He  only 
asked  me  why  I  was  not  at  school." 

"  What  did  you  tell  him  ?  " 

"  I  told  him  the  teacher  sent  us  down  to  get 
some  green  branches  to  put  over  the  clock,  for  we 
were  to  have  visitors  at  school  this  afternoon." 

"  Did  he  believe  you  ?  " 

Kate  laughed ;  she  appreciated  what  she  re 
garded  as  the  joke  of  a  clever  deception ;  the  wick 
edness  of  the  act  did  not  disturb  her. 

"  Of  course  he  believed  me  —  why  shouldn't  he  ? 
5* 


54  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

lie  has  gone  up  to  ask  Mrs.  Green  if  I  went  to 
school." 

"  But  he  will  find  out  all  about  it." 

"  Xo,  he  won't ;  besides,  if  he  does,  we  shall  be 
a  mile  off  when  he  gets  back  here  again." 

"  Didn't  he  s;iy  a  word  about  the  money  you 
found  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word,  Kate.  Now,  jump  in,  or  we  shall 
certainly  get  caught.  We  shall  have  time  enough 
to  talk  about  these  things  when  we  get  away  from 
the  pier." 

Kate  was  satisfied,  and  stepped  into  the  skiff. 
All  her  fears  related  to  the  money  in  the  posses 
sion  of  her  friend,  which,  she  was  almost  certain, 
had  been  stolen.  She  was  moralist  enough  to 
understand  that  even  if  the  money  had  been  found 
on  the  floor,  as  Fanny  represented,  it  was  just  as 
much  stolen  as  though  it  had  been  taken  from  Mr. 
Grant's  pocket-book.  Kate  had  not  engaged  in 
this  theft,  and  she  was  not  willing  to  bear  any  cf 
the  blame  on  account  of  it.  If  the  crime  had 
already  been  discovered,  she  did  not  wish  to  ex 
pose  herself  to  the  peril  of  helping  to  spend  the 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  55 

money.  According  to  Fanny's  statement,  nothing 
had  been  found  out,  and  she  got  into  the  skiff. 

Fanny  had  been  among  the  boats  a  great  deal 
during  her  residence  at  Woodville,  and  rowing  and 
sailing  were  suited  to  her  masculine  taste.  She 
was  a  girl  of  quick  parts ;  her  faculty  of  imitation 
was  highly  developed,  and  generally  what  she  had 
seen  done  she  could  do  herself.  She  could  row 
cross-handed  very  well,  and  she  had  no  difficulty 
in  pulling  the  skiff  out  to  the  Greyhound's  moor 
ings.  Kate  stepped  on  board  of  the  sail-boat,  and 
Fanny,  fastening  the  painter  of  the  skiff  at  the 
stern,  began  to  bustle  around  with  as  much  con 
fidence  as  though  she  had  been  a  skipper  ever  since 
she  left  her  cradle. 

She  had  often  sailed  in  the  Greyhound  with  Ben 
and  others,  and  she  knew  precisely  what  was  to 
be  done  in  order  to  get  the  boat  under  way.  She 
understood  how  to  move  the  tiller  in  order  to  make 
the  craft  go  in  a  given  direction,  and  had  an  indis 
tinct  idea  of  beating  and  tacking ;  but  she  was 
very  far  from  being  competent  to  manage  a  sail 
boat. 


56  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

The  stops  were  removed  from  the  sails,  under 
the  direction  of  the  adventurous  Fanny,  and  the 
foresail  hoisted.  It  was  a  more  difficult  matter  to 
cast  off  the  moorings,  but  their  united  strength 
accomplished  the  feat,  and  the  Greyhound,  released 
from  the  bonds  which  held  her,  immediately  drifted 
to  the  shore,  for  her  unskilful  skipper  had  not 
trimmed  the  foresail  so  that  it  would  draw. 

I  thought  you  knew  how  to  manage  a  boat," 
said  Kate,  contemptuously. 

"  So  I  do,"  replied  Fanny,  as  she  gathered  up 
the  fore-sheet,  and  trimmed  the  sail. 

"What  are  you  doing  in  here,  then,?" 

"  I  only  came  in  here  to  get  a  fair  start,''  added 
the  skipper,  not  at  all  disconcerted  by  the  mishap. 

"  Folks  don't  generally  run  the  boat  ashore  be 
fore  they  start,"  sneered  Kate,  who  certainly  had 
no  confidence  in  the  seamanship  of  the  feminine 
skipper. 

"  That's  the  way  they  do  it ! "  exclaimed  Fanny, 
triumphantly,  as  the  sail  began  to  draw,  and  the 
boat  moved  off  from  the  shore.  "  Now,  we  are  all 
right.  That's  just  the  way  I  meant  to  make  her  go." 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.      57 

The  wind  came  from  the  Woodville  side  of  the 
river,  but  it  was  very  light,  and  the  Greyhound 
moved  bu£  slowly.  Fanny  was  entirely  satisfied 
with  herself  now,  and  was  confident  that  she  could 
manage  any  boat  that  ever  floated.  It  was  a  very 
easy  thing,  she  thought,  and  she  did  not  see  why 
folks  made  such  a  "  fuss "  about  sailing  a  boat ; 
anybody  could  do  it,  if  they  only  thought  they 
could.  But  the  Greyhound  did  not  move  fast 
enough  for  her  impatient  temperament,  and,  against 
the  remonstrances  of  her  more  prudent  companion, 
she  insisted  upon  setting  the  mainsail. 

"  Mr.  Long  may  be  after  us  soon,  and  we  must 
get  along  as  fast  as  we  can,"  said  she,  as  she  took 
the  throat  halliard,  and  gave  the  peak  to  Kate. 
"  Now,  hoist  away.  We  are  as  good  sailors  as 
any  one  need  be." 

The  mainsail  was  set,  and  the  Greyhound  began 
to  travel  through  the  water  pretty  rapidly,  much  to 
the  delight  of  Fanny.  She  had  been  deceived  in 
regard  to  the  force  of  the  wind ;  under  the  lee  of 
the  shore,  where  it  was  obstructed  by  the  bank, 
by  the  trees,  and  by  the  buildings,  the  breeze  was 


58  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OB 

very  light :  out  in  the  middle  of  the  river  the  wind 
was  quite  strong ;  but  the  boat  had  not  yet  begun 
to  feel  its  full  force. 

"  Now  she  goes  beautifully !  "  exclaimed  Fanny, 
as  she  observed  the  effect  by  the  added  sail. 

"  She  goes  very  well  ;  but  dcfn't  you  see  how 
rough  the  water  is  out  in  the  middle  of  the  river  ?  " 
replied  Kate,  rather  anxiously,  though  she  was  not 
willing  to  acknowledge  the  full  extent  of  her  fears. 

"That's  nothing." 

"  But  why  don't  you  go  down  the  river  more, 
and  keep  out  of  that  rough  place  ? " 

"  I  like  the  waves !  It's  splendid  to  hear  them 
beating  against  the  boat." 

"  It  may  be  when  you  have  a  man  in  the  boat 
with  you,"  answered  Kate,  sceptically. 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  " 

"I'm  not  afraid ;  but  I  think  folks  ought  to  be 
very  careful  when  they  don't  know  anything  about 
boats." 

"  But  I  know  all  about  boats.  Don't  you  see 
how  beautifully  she  goes  ?  I  wish  she  would  go  a 
little  faster." 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     59 

"  She  goes  fast  enough,"  said  Kate,  as  she  lis 
tened  to  the  ripple  of  the  waves  against  the  bow. 

"  She  might  go  a  little  faster ;  besides,  we  are  in 
a  hurry." 

"  We  are  going  fast  enough,  Fan." 

"  The  faster  the  better !  I  suppose,  when  Mr. 
Long  goes  over  to  the  school  and  finds  we  are  not 
there,  he  will  come  down  to  the  pier  after  us. 
We  want  to  be  out  of  sight  when  he  gets 
there." 

"  Why  should  he  come  after  iis  ?  I  thought  you 
said  it  was  all  right,"  demanded  Kate,  nervously. 

"  He  will  go  over  to  the  school  to  find  out 
whether  the  teacher  sent  us  after  the  boughs."  . 

"  /  wish  I  had  not  come,"  continued  Kate, 
gloomily. 

If  she  had  known  the  whole  truth,  and  under 
stood  the  full  extent  of  her  bold  companion's  plans, 
she  would  have  been  still  more  dissatisfied  with 
the  situation. 

"  Here,  Kate,  you  take  the  tilbr  a  moment," 
said  Fanny,  as  she  rose  .from  her  seat  in  the  stern- 
sheets. 


60  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    CK 

**  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ? "  asked  Kate, 
nervously. 

"  I'm  going  to  hoist  the  other  sail." 

"  We  don't  want  it  hoisted.  We  arc  going  fast 
enough." 

"  We  can  just  as  well  go  faster ;  and  I  want  to 
get  out  of  sight  before  Mr.  Long  sees  us,"  replied 
Fanny,  persuasively,  though  her  bright  eyes  snapped 
with  increasing  lustre  under  the  excitement  of  the 
moment. 

"  I  won't  touch  the  tiller ;  I  say  we  go  fast 
enough.  You  want  to  drown  me  —  don't  you  ?  " 

"  If  I  drown  you,  I  must  drown  myself  — 
mustn't  I?" 

"  I  won't  touch  the  tiller  ;  I  don't  wan't  the  other 
sail  hoisted,"  persisted  Kate. 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of  ?  I  didn't  think  you 
were  a  coward.  If  I  had,  I  shouldn't  have  asked 
you  to  come  with  me.'' 

"  I'm  not  a  coward,  any  more  than  you  are.  I 
don't  see  what  you  want  to  hoist  the  other  sail 
for :  we  are  going  like  fury  through  the  water 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  61 

"  We  need  more  head  sail,"  answered  Fanny, 
using  an  expression  she  had  borrowed  from  the 
nautical  speeches  of  Ben,  the  boatman. 

"  No,  we  don't  need  more  head  sail,"  replied 
Kate,  who,  however,  had  not  the  most  remote  idea 
of  the  meaning  of  her  friend's  language. 

"  Take  the  tiller,  Kate,  and  don't  bother  me." 

"I  will  not." 

"  Then  I  will  hoist  the  sail,  and  let  the  boat 
take  care  of  herself  while  I  do  it.  If  she  is  upset, 
it  will  be  your  fault,  —  not  mine." 

Fanny  was  resolute  ;  she  had  a  will,  as  well  as 
a  way,  of  her  own.  She  did  not  want  any  advice, 
and  she  was  not  willing  to  take  any.  She  looked 
upon  her  companion  as  a  weak-minded,  poor-spirited 
girl,  and  she  treated  her  opinions  and  her  wishes 
with  the  utmost  contempt,  now  that  she  had  her 
completely  in  her  power.  It  was  useless  for  Kate 
to  attempt  to  oppose  her. 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  tiller,  as  you 
call  it.  I  don't  even  know  what  it  is,  and  I'm 
sure  I  couldn't  tell  what  to  do  with  it,"  continued 
Kate. 

6 


62  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  That's  a  good  girl  ! "  replied  Fanny,  in  patron 
izing  tones,  when  she  saw  that  her  companion  was 
disposed  to  yield. 

"  I  don't  want  to  touch  it." 

"  But  you  must." 

"Must!     Who  says  I  must?" 

"  I  say  so ;  if  you  don't,  we  may  be   upset." 

"  I  have  gone  far  enough,  Fan  Grant ;  I  don't 
want  to  go  any  farther :  I  want  to  go  on  shore 
again  !  "  exclaimed  Kate,  now  completely  disgusted 
with  the  venture,  for  in  addition  to  the  perils  of 
wrong  doing,  she  found  she  must  submit  to  the 
impudence  and  the  arrogance  of  her  friend. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  go  on  shore?"  replied 
Fanny,  with  the  utmost  coolness  and  self-posses 
sion. 

"  You  know  I  can't.  Turn  the  boat  round,  and 
let  me  go  back  to  the  land."  , 

"  I  think  not." 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  this  thing." 

"  Will  you  take  the  tiller,  or  will  you  let  the 
boat  upset  ? "  added  Fanny,  with  firmness  and  de 
cision.  "  You  can't  go  on  shore  again  till  I  get 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  63 

ready  to  let  you.  I  command  this  vessel,  and  if 
you  ever  want  to  put  your  foot  on  the  dry  land 
again,  you  must  mind  what  I  say." 

"  Please  to  let  me  go  back,"  pleaded  Kate. 

"  I  won't  please  to  do  anything  of  the  kind. 
Take  the  tiller,  I  say." 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  it  ? "  asked  the  poor  girl, 
cowed  down  and  subdued  by  the  force  and  decis 
ion  of  her  companion. 

"  Sit  here,"  replied  Fanny,  pointing  to  the  cor 
ner  of  the  stern-sheets,  where  the  helmsman  usually 
sits.  "  This  is  the  tiller,"  she  added,  indicating 
the  serpent-shaped  stick  attached  to  the  rudder,  by 
which  the  boat  is  steered.  "  Keep  it  just  as  it 
is,  until  I  tell  you  to  move  it." 

"  I  don  t  know  how  to  move  it." 

"When  I  say  right,  move  it  this  way;"  and 
Fanny  pointed  to  the  starboard  side.  "  When  I 
say  left,  move  it  the  other  way." 

Fanny  watched  her  a  moment  to  see  that  her 
instructions  were  obeyed. 

"  We  don't  want  this  any  longer,"  said  she,  un 
fastening  the  painter  of  the  skiff  and  throwing  it 


64  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

into  the  water,  thus  permitting  the  boat  to  go 
adrift. 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for  : "  demanded  Kate, 
as  the  Greyhound  jdashed  on,  leaving  the  skiff  be 
hind  to  be  borne  down  the  river  by  the  tide. 

"  We  don't  want  the  skiff,  and  dragging  it  be 
hind  keeps  us  back  some." 

"  What  did  you  bring  it  for,  then  ? " 

"  To  keep  Mr.  Long  from  chasing  us  in  it.  All 
the  rest  of  the  boats  are  hauled  up,  and  he  will 
have  to  find  one  before  he  can  come  after  us." 

Fanny  went  forward,  and  having  fearlessly  re 
moved  the  stops  from  the  jib,  which  required  her 
to  crawl  out  a  little  way  on  the  bowsprit,  she 
hoisted  the  sail,  and  carried  the  sheet  aft  to  the 
standing-room,  as  she  had  often  seen  the  boatmen 
do.  The  effect  of  this  additional  canvas  was  im 
mediately  seen,  for  the  Greyhound  had  now  reached 
the  middle  of  the  river,  where  she  felt  the  full 
force  of  the  wind,  which  was  fresh  from  the  north 
west,  and  came  in  puffs  and  flaws. 

When  the  Greyhound  went  out  from  the  shore, 
her  sails  were  over  on  the  right  hand  side ;  that  is, 


FANNY     GHANT     AMONG     THE     IXDIANS.  Go 

she  took  the  wind  abaft  the  port  beam.  The  boat 
was  now  careened  over  nearly  to  her  rail,  and  was 
darting  through  the  water  like  a  rocket.  Kate 
trembled,  but  Fanny  \vus  delighted. 

"Now  we  will  go  down  the  river,"  said    Fanny, 
as  she  took  the  tiller. 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  put  the  helm 
up  just  as  a  flaw  of  wind  came  sweeping  over  the 
waves.  The  boat  came  round ;  the  three  sails, 
caught  by  the  flaw,  suddenly  flew  over,  filled  on 
the  other  side,  and  the  Greyhound  careened  till  she 
was  half  full  of  water. 
6* 


66  HOPE     AND     H.VVK,     OB 


CHAPTER     V. 

DOWN'     THE     RIVER. 

PUTTIXG  a  boat  about,  as  Fanny  had  turned 
the  Greyhound,  is  nautically  termed  gybing  her. 
It  is  a  dangerous  manoeuvre  when  the  wind  is 
fresh,  and  should  never  be  attempted  by  young  or 
inexperienced  boatmen.  By  putting  the  boat  about 
in  the  opposite  direction,  hauling  in  the  sheet  as 
the  sail  flutters,  the  danger  may  be  wholly  avoided. 
The  boat's  head  should  always  be  turned  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  wind  comes.  But  a  per 
son  who  does  not  understand  the  management  of 
a  boat  should  no  more  attempt  to  handle  one  than 
an  unskilful  person  sho.;l  1  attempt  to  run  a  steam 
engine. 

Fanny  Grant  knew  but  little  about  a  boat,  and 
it  was  fortunate  for  her  and  her  companion  in  mis 
chief  that  the  wind  was  not  strong  enough  to  carry 


FAXXV   GBAXT  AMJXG  THE  INDIAN-;.     G7 

the  Greyhound  wholly  over.  If  she  had  careened 
only  a  little  more,  she  would  have  filled  with  water 
and  sunk,  for  she  was  heavily  ballasted.  As  it  was, 
she  was  half  full  of  water,  and  the  situation  of  the 
young  ladies,  if  not  perilous,  was  very  uncomfort 
able. 

"  O,  Fanny ! ''  screamed  Kate,  in  mortal  terror, 
as  the  Greyhound  heeled  over,  and  the  water  rushed 
in  over  the  washboard. 

"  Don't  be  scared,"  replied  Fanny,  with  wonderful 
self-possession.  "  It's  all  right,  and  there  is  no  harm 
done." 

"  We  shall  be  drowned ! "  gasped  Kate. 

"  Xo,  we  shall  not  be  drowned.  Don't  you  see 
the  boat  stands  up  like  a  major  ?  Don't  be  fright 
ened.  I  understand  it  all." 

"  Xo ;  you  don't  know  anything  about  it.  The 
boat  is  almost  full  of  water,  and  we  shall  sink  to 
the  bottom." 

"  I  tell  you  she  is  doing  very  well.  Pooh !  that 
wasn't  anything !  She  often  takes  in  the  water 
like  that.'' 

"  What  shall  we  do  ? "  moaned  Kate. 


68  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

This  was  a  question  which  appealed  even  to 
Fanny's  prudence.  Without  answering  in  words, 
she  let  go  the  halliards,  and  hauled  down  the 
foresail.  After  the  boat  came  about,  ,she  had  not 
righted  the  helm,  and  the  Greyhound  had  been 
thrown  up  into  the  wind  as  she  heeled  over  and 
took  in  the  flood  of  water.  She  now  lay  with  her 
sails  flapping,  and  Fanny  cast  off  the  main-sheet, 
rather  to  stop  the  fluttering  than  to  avoid  further 
peril.  Fortunately,  this  was  the  proper  course  to 
pursue. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  repeated  Kate,  expecting 
every  .moment  that  the  treacherous  sails  would  carry 
them  over  again,  and  that  they  would  soon  find 
their  way  to  the  bottom  of  the  river. 

"  Bale  out  the  water,"  replied  Fanny,  taking  a 
pail  and  a  dipper  from  the  cuddy  forward.  "  Now 
go  to  work,  and  we  shall  soon  be  ready  to  sail 
again." 

"  I  don't  want  to  sail  any  more,"  whined  Kate. 

"  Dip  away  as  fast  as  ever  you  can.  Don't  stop 
to  talk  about  it  now." 

Fanny  took  the  pail  herself,  and  gave  the  dipper 


FAXJS'Y     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  69 

to  Kate,  and  both  of  them  went  to  work  with  a 
zeal  which  promised  soon  to  free  the  Greyhound 
from  the  burden  under  which  she  was  laboring. 
There  was  a  large  quantity  of  water  in  the  boat, 
and  the  process  of  dipping  it  out  was  very  slow. 
Fanny  was  afraid  that  this  accident  would  throw 
her  into  the  power  of  her  great  enemy,  the  con 
stable  ;  and  this  was  the  only  fear  which  troubled 
her.  The  perils  of  the  mighty  river  had  no  terrors 
to  her  while  she  had  a  plank  under  her  feet. 

Kate  was  utterly  disconsolate  and  hopeless,  and 
Fanny  was  obliged  to  use  all  her  ingenuity  to  keep 
her  in  working  condition.  To  show  her  confidence, 
she  sang  like  a  nightingale,  as  she  dipped  out  the 
water  ;  and  Fanny  was  an  excellent  singer.  She 
labored  hard  to  prove  to  her  desponding  companion 
that  there  was  no  danger,  and  at  last  she  succeedc-il 
in  restoring  Kate  to  a  tolerable  degree  of  self- 
possession. 

When  about  half  the  water  had  been  dipped  out, 
Fanny  trimmed  the  sails,  and  headed  the  bo-it 
clown  the  river,  to  the  utter  consternation  of  her 
timid  associate,  who  was  heartily  sick  of  the  adven- 


70  HOPE     AXD     HVVE,     OR 

turc,  and  longed  to  put  her  feet  on  the  dry  land 
again. 

"  Xo\v,  Kate,  you  take  the  pail,  and  I  will  use 
the  dipper :  I  can  work  and  steer  the  boat  at  the 
same  time,"  said  Fanny,  when  the  Greyhound  was 
under  headway  again. 

"  The  boat  is  going  down  the  river,  Fanny ! " 
exclaimed  Kate,  as  she  took  the  pail. 

"  Of  course  she  is,"  replied  the  bold  skipper. 
"  AVI i ere  did  you  expect  her  to  go?" 

"  But  you  are  not  going  any  farther  —  arc  you  : " 

"To  be  sure  I  am.  Do  you  think  I  am  going 
to  back  out  now  : " 

"  We  shall  certainly  be  drowned  ! '' 

"  Nonsense ! " 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  any  farther,''  moaned  Kate, 
who  felt  like  one  going  to  execution. 

"  I  can't  help  it  if  yo-i  don't.  I'm  going  down 
to  Pennvillc,"  answered  Fanny,  still  dipping  up  the 
v  ;itcr  from  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"  I  won't  bale  out  any  more  then,"  ejaculated 
Kate,  as  she  dropped  the  pail,  and  looked  as  though 
she  actually  meant  what  she  said. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  71 

"  Very  well ;  then  I  won't,"  added  Fanny,  throw 
ing  down  the  dipper. 

"  If  you  will  go  back,  I  will  bale  out  the  water 
as  hard  as  ever  I  can." 

"  But  I  will  not  go  back,"  replied  Fanny,  firmly. 
"  Do  you  think  I  am  going  home  to  be  shut  up 
for  a  week,  or  sent  back  to  my  uncle,  without 
having  any  fun  at  all  ?  If  you  won't  bale,  I  won't. 
I  guess  I  can  stand  it  as  long  as  you  can." 

"  Do  go  back,  Fanny,"  begged  Kate. 

"  I  tell  you  I  will  not.  You  don't  know  what 
I  am  going  to  do  yet." 

"  What  ?  " 

"  I  can't  stop  to  talk  about  it  now.  If  you 
don't  take  the  pail  and  bale  out  the  boat,  I  will 
hoist  the  other  sail." 

"  Don't,  Fanny  !  " 

"  If  you  will  keep  still,  and  mind  what  I  say, 
I  won't  hoist  the  sail.  We  go  along  with  only 
these  two  sails  just  as  easy  as  anything  can  be, 
and  there  isn't  a  bit  of  danger." 

Kate,  to  avoid  the  greater  evil,  submitted  to  the 
less;  and,  as  the  Greyhound,  now  going  very  stead- 


72  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

ily  under  her  jib  and  mainsail,  continued  on  her 
course,  she  was  soon  freed  from  the  water  within 
her.  The  boat  went  along  so  well  that  Kate  gath 
ered  a  little  courage,  and  ventured  to  hope  that  they 
might  not  be  drowned,  after  all. 

"  You  mustn't  turn  her  round  again,  Fan,"  said 
she. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  We  shall  run  ashore  if 
I  don't  turn  her." 

"  Can't  we  lower  the  sails  when  you  turn  her  ? " 

"  There  is  no  need  of  that,"  replied  Fanny, 
cheerfully.  "  I  made  a  little  mistake  before,  but  I 
understand  all  about  it  now." 

"What  was  the  mistake,  Fan?" 

"  I  didn't  turn  her  the  right  way,"  replied  the 
confident  skipper,  who  had  been  studying  up  the 
cause  of  the  mishap  and  had  reasoned  out  the 
correct  solution.  "  I  shall  know  just  how  to  do  it 
next  time,  Kate,  and  you  needn't  be  the  least 
grain  scared.  See  here,"  said  she,  putting  the 
helm  down,  and  bringing  the  boat  round  till  her 
head  was  thrown  up  into  the  wind. 

"  Don't,   Fanny  !  " 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  73 

"  That's  the  way  it  is  done,"  continued  Fanny, 
proudly.  Don't  you  see  how  easily  she  does  it  ? 
There  isn't  a  bit  of  danger  now ;  "  and  she  brought 
the  boat  round  to  her  course  again. 

Kate  was  terrified  at  the  very  mention  of  turn 
ing  the  boat ;  but  when  she  saw  that  the  feat  was 
accomplished  without  upsetting  or  even  taking  in 
any  more  water,  her  confidence  was  in  a  great 
measure  restored.  Fanny's  exhibition  of  her  skill 
produced  the  intended  effect  upon  her  companion, 
and  the  feminine  skipper's  easy  and  self-reliant  way 
confirmed  the  impression.  Fanny  had  learned  more 
about  the  management  of  a  boat  in  that  brief  half 
hour  than  she  had  ever  known  before,  for  the  con 
sciousness  that  her  own  life  and  that  of  her  pas 
senger  depended  upon  her  skill,  sharpened  her  per 
ceptions  and  quickened  her  judgment  to  such  an 
extent  that  those  moments  of  thrilling  experience 
became  equivalent  to  months  of  plodding  study 
when  the  mind  is  comparatively  dull  and  heavy. 

Mr.  Long,  the  constable,  evidently  did  not  hurry 
himself  in  the  investigation  of  Fanny's  case  ;  for 
when  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  the  wicked  girl 
7 


74  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

had  deceived  him,  and  had  reached  the  Woodville 
pier,  having  first  visited  the  school,  as  the  shrewd 
girl  had  intended  he  should,  the  boat  was  not  in 
sight  ;  or,  at  least,  nothing  could  be  seen  of  her 
but  the  white  sails,  which  he  could  not  identify, 
and  the  fugitives  were  in  no  present  danger  on  ac 
count  of  his  movements.  He  did  not  know  whether 
the  Greyhound  had  gone  up  or  down  the  river ; 
and  he  had  no  boat  in  which  to  follow  her. 

Fanny  felt  that  she  had  won  a  victory,  for  she 
did  not  reali/e  that  success  in  a  wicked  cause  is 
failure  and  defeat.  She  congratulated  herself  on 
the  feat  she  had  accomplished,  and  she  was  vain 
enough  to  boast  to  her  associate  of  what  she  had 
done ;  of  her  skill  in  managing  the  boat,  and  her 
shrewdness  in  planning  the  enterprise  ;  and  it  is 
quite  certain  that  if  she  had  been  less  resolute  and 
courageous,  the  expedition  would  have  ended  in 
failure  almost  at  the  beginning. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  what  you  are  going 
to  do  yet,"  said  Kate,  when  she  had  sponged  out 
the  bottom  of  the  well,  dried  the  seats  in  the 
standing-room,  and  taken  her  place  by  the  side  of 
Fanny. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  75 

"  I  will  tell  you  now,"  replied  Fanny.  "  What 
do  you  suppose  your  father  will  do  to  you  when 
he  finds  out  that  you  played  truant,  and  went  01* 
the  river  with  me  ? "  she  added,  apparently,  but  not 
really,  avoiding  the  subject. 

"  He'll  kill  me  !  "   answered  Kate,  with  emphasis. 
"  No,  he  won't." 

"  I  don't  know  what  he  Avill  do,  then." 
"He  will  punish  you  in  some  way  —  won't  he?" 
"  Yes.     I  don't  know  what  he  will  do." 
"  Well,    Kate,    we    must    bring    him    to    terms," 
added   Fanny,  with    the    most    impudent   assurance. 
"  If  you  will   mind  what  I  say,  he  will  not  punish 
yo'i  at  all.     Will  you  do  it  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know." 

"  You   don't  know  !     Do   you  want    to    go    back 
and    be    whipped    like   a   baby,  be    shut    up    for    a 
week,  or  something  of  that  kind  ? " 
"  Cf  course  I  don't." 

"  And  I  will  tell  you  how  to  get  rid  of  all  these 
thing  >,  and  make  your  father  as  glad  to  see  you 
as  though  you  had  been  a  good  little  girl  all  your 
I'.fc,  and  had  been  away  on  a  long  journey." 


76  HOPE     AND     HATE,     OR 

"  How  ? " 

"  That's  telling  !  " 

"  You  said  you  would  tell  me." 

"  And  so  I  will,  if  you  are  strong  enough  to 
bear  it." 

"Well,  I  am." 

"  Don't  go  home  for  a  week  or  ten  days.  Your 
folks  won't  know  where  you  are.  When  tliey  find 
out  you  went  with  me  in  a  boat,  they  will  think 
you  are  drowned ;  and  when  you  go  back,  they  will 
be  so  glad  to  see  you  that  they  won't  'say  a  word." 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  a  girl  who 
had  been  brought  up  by  a.  loving  mother  to  con 
ceive  of  such  a  cold-blooded  and  diabolical  propo 
sition.  Fanny  had  no  mother,  no  father.  Even 
the  remembrance  of  the  former  had  passed  from  her 
mind ;  and  her  father,  while  he  was  living,  had 
been  away  from  her  so  much  that  she  hardly  knew 
him  as  a  parent.  Her  antecedents,  therefore,  did 
not  qualify  her  to  comprehend  the  loathsome  enor 
mity  of  the  course  she  proposed  to  her  companion. 

"  I  can't  stay  away  from  home  a  week,  let  alone 
ten  days,"  replied  Kate,  who,  bad  as  she  was,  was 
shocked  at  the  proposition. 


FANNY    GRANT   AMONG   THE    INDIANS.        77 

"  Yes,  you  can." 

"  Where   shall  I  stay  ?  " 

"  Stay  with  me." 

"  Where  will  you  stay  ?  " 

"  We  will  go  down  to  Xew  York  city." 

"  To  New  York  city  !  " 

"  That's  where  I  intend  to  go,"  replied  Fanny, 
coolly. 

"You  don't  mean  so,  Fan?" 

"  Yes,  I  do ;   and   I   have  meant  it  all  the  time." 

"  But  you  said  we  were  going  to  Pennville." 

"  We  are  ;  and  when  we  get  there  we  will  take 
the  cars  for  New  York  city.  We  shall  be  there 
before  twelve  o'clock." 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  when  we  get  there  ? " 
demanded  Kate,  who  was  absolutely  appalled  at 
the  magnitude  of  Fanny's  scheme. 

"  We  will  have  a  good  time,  in  the  first  place. 
There  are  plenty  of  shops  where  we  can  get  cakes, 
and  candy,  and  ice-cream ;  we  can  go  to  the  mu 
seum,  the  .theatre,  and  the  circus ;  we  can  go  to 
Central  Park,  and  all  the  fine  places  in  the  city." 

"  But  where  should  we  live  ?  " 
7* 


78  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  There  arc  hotels  enough." 

"  What  should  we  do  at  a  hotel  ?  Besiden  it 
would  take  lots  of  money." 

"  I've  got  money  enough." 

"  Five  dollars  wouldn't  pay  for  our  living  a 
week.  They  ask  three  or  four  dollars  a  day  fi.r 
living  at  a  hotel." 

"  I've  got  more  than  five  dollars,"  answered 
Fanny,  rather  cautiously. 

"  Have  you  ?     How  much  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  exactly." 

"  You  don't  know  ! "  repeated  Kate,  very  confi 
dent  now  in  regard  to  the  means  by  which  the 
money  had  been  obtained,  which,  with  this  added 
revelation  regarding  the  amount,  she  did  not  believe 
had  been  found  on  the  floor.  "  You  don't  know  !  " 

"  I  haven't  counted  it." 

"  Fan,  you  didn't  find  t!iat  money  on  the  floor ! '' 
exclaimed  she. 

"  I  found  it,  anyhow,"  said  Fanny,  turning  her 
head  away  from  her  companion. 

"  Where  did  you  find  it  ? " 

"  In  the  drawer,  if  you  must  know,"  replied 
Fanny,  desperately. 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     79 


CHAPTER    VI. 

KATE'S    DEFECTION. 

"  FANNY  GRANT,  you  stole  that  money ! "  said 
Kate,  as  though  she  had  made  a  great  discovery. 

It  was  no  discovery  at  all.  She  had  been  reason 
ably  confident  that  the  five  dollars,  which  Fanny 
acknowledged  to  be  in  her  possession,  had  been 
stolen,  or,  if  not  actually  stolen,  that  it  had  been 
obtained  in  a  manner  entirely  at  variance  even  with 
a  very  low  ideal  of  common  honesty.  She  was 
willing  to  enjoy  the  good  things  which  might  be 
bought  with  the  five  dollars,  but  she  was  not  dis 
posed  to  bear  the  responsibility  of  the  theft,  either 
as  principal  or  accessory.  If,  when  the  day  of 
reckoning  came,  she  could  make  it  appear  that  she 
did  not  know  the  money  had  been  stolen,  she 
would  escape  the  penalty  and  the  odium  of  being 
a  thief,  or  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods. 


80  HOPE     AN'X)     HAVE,     OR 

Like  many  others,  she  could  hold  up  her  hands 
in  holy  horror  at  the  crime  made  public,  while  she 
was  willing  to  wiuk  at  or  compromise  the  crims 
for  her  own  benefit  in  the  secret  chambers  of  her 
own  heart.  If  she  had  been  taught  in  ancient 
Lacedaemonia  that  it  is  not  a  crime  to  steal,  but  a 
crime  to  be  found  out,  she  could  not  have  been 
more  faithful  to  its  base  policy. 

Fanny  heard  the  charge,  but  made  no  reply, 
pretending  to  be  occupied  in  watching  the  course 
of  the  boat. 

"  You  stole  that  money,  Fanny  Grant ! "  repeated 
Kate,  with  even  more  emphasis,  and  more  holy 
horror  than  before. 

"  Well,  what  if  I  did  ?  "  answered  Fanny,  who  was 
disposed  to  have  her  associate  as  deep  in  the  mud 
as  she  herself  was  in  the  mire ;  and  she  knew  that 
it  would  be  impossible  to  deny  the  fact  when  she 
exhibited  the  great  roll  of  bills  in  her  pocket. 

"  I  didn't  think  you  would  steal  money,  Fanny." 

"  You  would  yourself,  if  you  got  a  chance." 

"  Xo,  I  wouldn't ;  I'm  bad  enough,  I  know,  but 
I  wouldn't  steal." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  81 

"  Yes,  you  would !  You  needn't  pretend  to  be 
so  good.  You  will  never  be  hung  for  your  honesty. 
I  know  you." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  would  steal  ? "  demanded 
Kate,  not  a  little  mortified  to  be  thought  so  mean 
ly  of. 

"  I  know  you  would.  Who  stole  the  strawberries 
the  other  day  ?  " 

"  That  wasn't  money,"  pleaded  Kate. 

"  It  was  all  the  same." 

"  I  wouldn't  take  money.     I'm  not  a  thief." 
,"You  flatter  yourself." 

"  I  wouMn't.  But,  Fanny,"  she  added,  willing 
to  change  the  subject,  "  I  shouldn't  dare  to  go  to 
New  York  city." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Something  might  happen  to  us." 

"  What  can  happen  to  us  ? " 

"I  don't  know;  but  I'm  afraid  to  go.  What 
should  we  do  with  ourselves  for  a  whole  week  ? " 

"  Have  a  good  time ;  that's  what  we  are  going 
for  ?  " 

"  I  can't  go,  Fan." 


82  IIOl'E     AND     HAVE,     OR 

'•  Yes,  you  can ;  and  you  must.  You  have  got 
into  the  scrape  so  far,  and  you  are  not  going  to 
leave  me  alone  now.  You  promised  to  go  with  me." 

"  But  you  did  not  tell  me  what  you  were  going 
to  do." 

"  I  have  told  you  now  ;  and  if  you  attempt  to 
back  out,  you  shall  bear  half  the  blame." 

"  I  didn't  steal." 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  didn't ;  you  shall  bear  your 
share  of  the  blume.  Y'ou  shall  go  with  me." 

"What  will  my  mother  say?" 

"  She  will  say  you  are  a  naughty  girl,  and  punish 
you  fcr  what  you  have  done.  If  you  go  with  me, 
she  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you  when  you  get  back, 
that  she  won't  say  a  word.  She  will  find  out 
what  you  arc  made  of  then ;  if  you  go  back  now, 
she  will  see  that  you  are  nothing  but  a  chicken 
at  heart,  and  she  will  punish  you,  as  you  deserve 
to  be  for  deserting  your  friend." 

"  My  mother  would  feel  awfully  if  I  did  not 
come  back  to-night,"  continued  Kate,  thoughtfully, 
even  sadly ;  and  she  was  sincere  now. 

"  She  will  get  over  it." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  83 

"  She  would  foel  dreadfully." 

"  So  much  the  better ;  the  worse  she  feels  the 
more  glad  she  will  be  to  see  you  when  you  do  go 
back." 

Kate  saw  that  it  was  useless  to  reason  with  her 
companion  on  this  point ;  besides,  there  was  a  cer 
tain  sacred  feeling  in  her  heart  which  Fanny  could 
neither  understand  nor  appreciate,  -and  she  was  un 
willing  to  expose  it  to  the  rude  reproaches  of  one 
who  seemed  to  have  no  heart.  She  was  too  timid, 
rather  than  too  conscientious,  to  engage  in  such 
a  gigantic  scheme  of  wickedness  as  that  which 
Fanny  had  indicated ;  and  we  must  do  her  the  jus 
tice  to  add,  that  the  blessed  influence  of  a  moth 
er's  love,  stronger  and  deeper  in  her  heart  than 
principle,  asserted  its  sway,  and  to  give  her  mother 
a  week  of  pain  and  anxiety  was  revolting  to  her. 

She  was  fully  determined  not  to  go  to  Xew  York 
city,  and  to  get  home  as  soon  as  she  could.  But 
Fanny  had  so  much  to  say  about  "  backing  out," 
and  "  deserting  her  friend,"  that  she  deemed  it 
prudent  not  to  mention  anything  about  her  reso 
lution.  She  knew  her  companion  well  enough  to 


64  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

believe  that  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to 
persuade  her  to  abandon  her  brilliant  scheme ; 
and  Fanny  was  so  resolute  and  self-willed  that 
she  might  find  a  way  to  compel  her  to  go  with 
her,  whether  she  was  willing  or  not. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  how  much  money  I 
have  got  ? "  asked  Fanny,  after  a  silence  of  some 
minutes,  during  •  which  Kate  h;id  been  thinking 
what  she  should  do. 

'•  I  should  like  to  know,"  replied  Kate,  who, 
however,  was  really  indifferent  after  she  had  de 
cided  not  to  partake  of  the  good  things  which 
the  stolen  money  could  purchase. 

"  You  take  the  tiller  then,  and  I  will  count 
it.  Keep  it  just  as  it  is,"  said  Fanny,  resigning 
her  place  to  her  fellow-voyager. 

The  boat  was  going  along  very  easily  with  the 
wind  on  the  starboard  quarter,  and  did  not  need 
much  attention.  She  was  approaching  Pennville, 
and  the  cruise  was  nearly  finished.  Fanny  took 
the  roll  of  bills  from  her  pocket,  and  proceeded 
to  count  it.  The  notes  were  nearly  all  "  greenbacks," 
with  a  few  small  bills  on  the  state  banks.  There 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     85 

were  twenties,  tens,  and  fives,  and  the  thief  Avas 
almost  frightened  herself  when  she  ascertained  the 
amount  she  had  obtained. 

"  One  hundred,  one  hundred  five,  one  hundred 
and  ten,"  said  Fanny,  as  she  counted  the  money  ; 
"  one  hundred  and  ten " 

"  Why,  Fanny  Grant ! "  cried  Kate,  horrified  at 
the  greatness  of  the  sum. 

"  Fifteen,  twenty,  twenty-five,  thirty " 

"  They  will  send  you  to  the  state  prison  for 
stealing  so  much  money !  "  added  Kate,  trembling 
as  the  large  numbers  were  mentioned. 

"  The  more  the  better,"  replied  Fanny,  trying  to 
keep  cool,  though  she  was  much  agitated  herself, 
as,  measuring  the  crime  by  the  amount  of  the 
money,  she  realized  how  guilty  she  had  been. 

She  finished  the  counting ;  and  the  whole  sum 
was  one  hundred  and  seventy-three  dollars  and 
eighty-five  cents. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  thought 
there  was,"  said  she. 

"  Why  did  you  take  so  much  r "  asked  the  terri 
fied  Kate. 

8 


86  HOPU     AND     HAVE,     OK 

"  I  didn't  know  how  much  there  was." 

"  You  will  have  all  the  constables  in  the  county 
after  you  before  night." 

"  And  after  you,  too." 

"  I  didn't  steal  it." 

"  Well,  you  were  with  me,  and  I  will  give  you 
some  of  it." 

"  I  don't  want  any  of  it." 

"  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  ;  1  don't  think  it  is  fair  for  you 
to  try  to  make  it  out  that  I  helped  you  steal  the 
money,  when  I  didn't,  and  when  I  didn't  know 
anything  about  it." 

"  You  knew  I  had  some  money  before  you  got 
into  the  boat.  You  are  scared  —  that  s  all." 

"  I  am  scared,  and  I  wish  I  hadn't  come." 

"  I  wish  you  hadn't,  because  you  are  so  fright 
ened  ;  but  now  you  have  gone  so  far,  you  can't 
back  out.  You  want  to  return  to  Woodville,  and 
tell  them  I  stole  the  moYiey." 

"No,  I  don't." 

"  I'm  never  going  back  to  Woodville  again. 
They  have  been  talking  about  sending  me  to  ir.y 


GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    87 

uncle's,  in  ^Minnesota,  and  I'm  not  going  to  be  sent 
there." 

"What  shall  I  do,  then?"  demanded  Kate, 
awed  and  astonished  at  the  desperate  purpose  of 
her  friend. 

"  I  will  see  that  you  get  back  home  all  right. 
Here  is  some  money  to  pay  your  passage,"  added 
Fanny,  counting  out  a  portion  of  the  bills. 

"•  I   don't  want  that/' 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Fanny,  putting  the  bills 
in  her  pocket  ;  and  she  looked  so  firm  and  so 
"  ugly "  that  Kate  was  actually  afraid  of  her. 

The  Greyhound  had  nearly  reached  the  pier  at 
Pennville ;  but  Fanny  did  not  intend  to  land  at 
any  public  place,  and  she  ran  the  boat  up  to  the 
bank  of  the  river,  a  short  distance  above  the  vil 
lage,  grounding  it  lightly  on  a  kind  of  beach  she 
had  chosen  as  a  landing-place.  Fanny  took  the 
boat-hook  in  her  hand,  and  jumped  ashore. 

"  Now,  Kate  Magner,  before  we  go  any  farther, 
we  must  come  to  an  understanding.  If  you  think 
you  are  going  to  leave  me  to  bear  all  the  blame, 
you  are  mistaken."' 


88  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  I  don't  mean  any  such  thing,"  replied  Kate. 

"  Yes,  you  do  ;  you  mean  to  betray  me." 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Why  didn't  you  take  the  money  I  offered  you, 
then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  it." 

"  You  are  in  the  boat,  and  I  am  on  the  land. 
If  you  don't  take  the  money,  I  will  push  the  boat 
off,  and  she  will  carry  you  away  —  I  don't  know 
where." 

"  Don't  do  that." 

"  Will  you  take  the  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  answered  Kate,  who  was  more 
afraid  of  the  boat  than  she  would  have  been  of  a 
demon. 

"  Take  it,  then,"  said  Fanny,  handing  her  the 
little  roll  of  bills  she  had  taken  from  the  package 
for  this  purpose.  "  There  is  twenty-one  dollars." 

Kate  took  the  money,  and  thrust  it  into  her 
pocket. 

"  Now  we  are  both  just  the  same.  You  have 
taken  some  of  the  money,  and  you  are  just  as  bad 
as  I  am.  You  can't  back  out  now,  if  you  want  to 
do  so." 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     89 

This  was  only  an  expedient  on  the  part  of  the 
resolute  mistress  of  the  expedition  to  prevent  her 
companion  from  deserting  her,  rather  than  to  insure 
an  equal  division  of  the  punishment  for  stealing. 

"  What  shall  we  do  now  ? "  asked  Kate,  as  she 
landed  from  the  boat,  which  Fanny  held  with  the 
boat-hook. 

"  We  will  go  up  to  the  railroad  station,  and 
take  the  train  for  New  York  city." 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  boat?" 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  boat.  I  have 
had  all  I  want  of  her.  But  I  think  I  will  let  the 
sails  down,  and  fasten  her  to  the  bank.  If  they 
should  find  her,  she  might  betray  us." 

Fanny  lowered  the  sails,  and  fastened  the  painter 
to  a  stake  on  the  bank.  The  two  girls  then  started 
for  the  village,  which  was  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  below  the  place  where  they  had  landed. 
When  they  had  gone  a  short  distance,  they  saw  a 
man  mending  a  boat  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 
Kate  took  particular  notice  of  him,  for  she  was 
already  planning  the  means  of  her  deliverance 
from  the  arbitrary  sway  of  her  companion. 
8* 


90  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

The  two  girls  ^yere  very  well  dressed,  and  it 
was  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  young  ladies  to 
manage  their  own  boats  on  the  Hudson ;  so,  if  they 
had  been  seen  to  land  from  the  Greyhound,  no 
notice  was  taken  of  the  circumstance.  They  were 
not  likely  to  be  molested,  except  by  their  own 
guilty  consciences.  They  walked  directly  to  the 
railroad  station,  and  ascertained  that  the  train 
would  leave  in  half  an  hour.  Fanny,  anxious  to 
conciliate  her  associate,  and  accustom  her  to  her 
new  situation,  invited  her  to  a  saloon,  wheie  they 
partook  of  ice-creams ;  but  partial  as  Kate  was  to 
this  luxury,  it  did  not  taste  good,  and  seemed  to 
be  entirely  different  from  any  ice-cream  she  had 
ever  eaten  before. 

When  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  train  to  arrive, 
Fanny  bought  two  tickets,  and  they  joined  the 
crowd  that  was  waiting  f-T  the  cars.  Kate  seemed 
to  be  so  fully  reconciled  to  the  enterprise,  that  her 
friend  did  not  doubt  her  any  longer ;  she  had  no 
suspicion  of  her  intended  defection. 

"  I  am  almost  choked,"  said  Kate,  when  the 
whistle  of  thp  locomotive  was  heard  in  the  dis 
tance.  "  I  must  have  a  drink  of  water." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  91 

"  You  have  no  time." 

"  I  won't  be  gone  but  a  second,"  replied  Kate. 

"  I  will  wait  here  —  but  be  quick." 

Kate  went  into  the  station-house,  and  passing 
out  at  the  door  on  the  other  side,  ran  off  towards 
the  river  as  fast  as  her  legs  would  carry  her.  She 
reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village  before  she 
slackened  her  pace,  and  then,  exhausted  and  out 
of  breath  with  running,  she  paused  to  ascertain  if 
Fanny  was  in  pursuit  of  her.  No  one  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  direction  from  which  she  had  come, 
and  taking  courage  from  her  success,  she  walked 
leisurely  towards  the  place  where  the  Greyhound 
had  been  left. 

The  man  she  had  passed  on  her  way  down  was 
still  at  work  on  his  boat,  and  Kate,  telling  him 
such  a  story  as  suited  her  purpose,  engaged  him 
to  sail  the  Greyhound  up  to  Woodville.  They  em 
barked  without  any  interruption  from  Fanny,  and 
in  a  couple  of  hours  she  was  landed  at  the  pier 
from  which  she  had  started.  Kate  paid  her  boat 
man  three  dollars  from  the  money  which  Fanny 
had  given  her,  and  then  walked  up  to  the  man 
sion. 


92  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OK 

She -told  Mrs.  Green  the  whole  truth,  and  gave 
her  the  eighteen  dollars  remaining  in  her  posses 
sion.  She  then  went  home  to  make  peace  with 
her  mother,  to  whom  also  she  told  the  whole  story, 
blaming  Fanny  for  everything  except  her  own  tru 
ancy,  and  pleading  that  she  had  been  led  away  in 
this  respect. 

Mr.  Long  was  still  engaged  in  the  search  for 
Fanny,  though  the  loss  of  the  money  in  the  closet 
had  not  been  discovered  till  Kate  appeared. 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.     93 


CHAPTER    VII. 
THE    SOLDIEK'S    FAMILY. 

FANNY  stood  on  the  platform  in  front  of  the 
station-house,  waiting  for  the  return  of  Kate.  She 
had  no  suspicion  that  her  friend  had  deserted  her, 
and  was  at  that  moment  running  away  as  fast  as 
she  could.  The  train  was  approaching,  and  with 
the  nervousness  of  one  not  accustomed  to  travelling, 
she  feared  they  might  he  left.  The  cars  stopped, 
and  Kate  did  not  return.  Fanny  rushed  into  the 
station-house  in  search  of  her.  She  was  not  there ! 
she  was  not  in  the  building ;  she  was  not  to  be 
seen  from  the  open  door. 

Then  Fanny  realized  that  her  companion's  courage 
had  failed,  and  that  she  had  deserted  her.  The 
bell  on  the  locomotive  was  ringing,  and  the  train 
was  in  the  act  of  starting.  Fanny  was  quick  and 
decisive  in  her  movements,  and  she  bounded  out  of 


94  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

the  building,  and  stepped  upon  the  train  after  it 
was  in  motion.  She  was  angry  and  indignant  at 
the  defection  of  Kate,  and,  taking  a  seat  in  the 
car,  she  nursed  her  bitter  feelings  until  her  wrath 
had  expended  itself. 

Kate's  desertion  affected  the  plans  of  the  runaway, 
for  in  a  few  hours,  at  most,  what  she  had  don11, 
and  what  she  intended  to  do,  would  be  known  at 
Woodville.  Mr.  Long  would  take  one  of  the  after 
noon  trains  for  the  city,  and  the  whole  polic?  force 
of  the  great  metropolis  would  be  on  the  lookout 
for  her  before  dark.  Constables  and  policemen 
were  now  more  than  ever  Fanny's  especial  horror, 
and  she  trembled  at  the  very  thought  of  bei"g 
arrested  for  the  crime  she  had  committed. 

Fanny  was  a  girl  of  quick,  bright  parts.  She 
had  read  the  newspapers,  and  listened  to  the  con 
versation  .  of  her  elders.  She  was  better  informed 
in  regard  to  the  ways  of  the  world  than  most 
young  persons  of  her  age  with  no  more  experience. 
She  knew  all  about  the  telegraph,  and  the  uses  to 
which  it  was  put  in  the  detection  and  arrest  of 
rogues.  Though  it  was  hardly  possible  for  KatP 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  95 

to  reach  "\Voodvitle,  and  inform  the  people  there 
where  she  had  gone,  yet  circumstances  might  con 
spire  against  her  so  as  to  rende^1  the  telegraph 
available.  Mr.  Long  might  have  discovered  in  what 
direction  the  fugitives  had  gone,  and  followed  them 
down  to  Pennville.  He  might  have  met  Kate 
there,  and  learned  her  destination.  It  was  possi 
ble,  therefore,  that  a  despatch  might  reach  the  city 
before  she  did,  and  an  officer  be  waiting  for  her 
at  the  railroad  station. 

She  was  too  cunning  to  be  entrapped  by  any 
such  expedients ;  and  when  the  train  stopped  at 
Harlem,  she  got  out,  with  the  intention  of  walk 
ing  into  the  city.  Deeming  it  imprudent  to  follow 
the  principal  street,  in  which  some  of  the  terrible 
policemen  might  be  lying  in  wait  for  her,  she  made 
her  way  to  one  of  the  less  travelled  thoroughfares, 
in  which  she  pursued  her  way  towards  the  city.  The 
street  she  had  chosen  led  her  through  the  localities 
inhabited  by  the  poorer  portions  of  the  population. 
The  territory  through  which  she  was  passing  was 
in  a  transition  state :  broad  streets  and  large  squares 
had  been  laid  out,  in  anticipation  of  vast  improve- 


06  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

ments,  but  only  a  little  had  been  accomplished  in 
carrying  them  out.  There  were  many  tasty  little 
houses,  and  m#ny  long  blocks  of  buildings  occu 
pied  by  mechanics  and  laborers,  and  occasionally  a 
more  pretentious  mansion. 

In  some  of  the  most  ineligible  places  for  building, 
there  were  houses,  or  rather  hovels,  constructed  in 
the  roughest  and  rudest  manner,  apparently  for 
temporary  use  until  the  march  of  improvement  should 
drive  their  tenants  into  still  more  obscure  locations. 
Fanny  passed  near  one  of  these  rude  abodes,  which 
was  situated  on  a  cross  street,  a  short  distance 
from  the  avenue  on  which  she  was  journeying  to 
the  city.  In  front  of  this  house  was  a  scene  which 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  wanderer,  and  caused 
her  to  forget,  for  the  time,  the  great  wrong  she 
had  committed,  and  the  consequences  which  would 
follow  in  its  train. 

In  front  of  the  house  lay  several  articles  of  the 
coarsest  furniture,  and  a  man  was  engaged  in  re 
moving  more  of  the  same  kind  from  the  hovel. 
He  had  paused  for  a  moment  in  his  occupation, 
and  before  him  stood  a  woman  who  was  wringing 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  97 

her  hands  in  the  agonies  of  despair.  Fanny  could 
hear  the  profane  and  abusive  language  the  man 
used,  and  she  could  hear  the  piteous  pleadings  of 
the  woman,  at  whose  side  stood  a  little  boy,  half 
clothed  in  tattered  garments,  weeping  as  though  his 
heart  would  break. 

Fanny  was  interested  in  the  scene.  The  woman's 
woe  and  despair  touched  her  feelings,  and  perhaps 
more  from  curiosity  than  any  other  motive,  she 
walked  down  the  cross-street  towards  the  cottage. 
Being  resolute  and  courageous  by  nature,  she  had 
no  fear  of  personal  consequences.  She  did  not 
comprehend  the  nature  of  the  difficulty,  having 
never  seen  a  tenant  forcibly  ejected  from  a  house 
for  the  non-payment  of  rent. 

"You'll  kill  my  child!  You'll  kill  my  child!" 
cried  the  poor  woman,  in  such  an  agony  of  bitter 
ness  that  Fanny  was  thrilled  by  her  tones. 

"  Isn't  it  a  whole  year  I've  been  waiting  for  my 
rint  ? "  replied  the  man,  coarsely.  "  Didn't  yo 
keep  promisin'  to  pay  me  for  a  twelvemonth,  and 
niver  a  cint  I  got  yet  ?  "• 

"  I  would  pay  you  if  I  could,  Mr.  O'Shane." 
9 


98  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"If  ye  could!  What  call  have  I  to  wait  any 
longer  for  me  money  ?  " 

"My  husband  has  gone  to  the  war,  and  I  haven't 
heard  a  word  from  him  for  a  year ;  but  I'm  sure 
he  will  send  me  some  money  soon  —  I  know  he 
will." 

"  What  call  had  he  to  go  to  the  war  ?  Why 
didn't  he  stay  at  home  and  take  care  of  his  chil- 
der  ?  Go  'way  wid  ye  !  Give  me  up  me  house !  " 

Mr.  O' Shane  broke  away  from  her,  and,  rush 
ing  into  the  house,  presently  returned  bearing  a 
dilapidated  table  in  his  hands. 

"  Have  mercy,  Mr.  O'Shane.  Pity  me  !  "  pleaded 
the  woman,  when  he  appeared. 

"  I  do  pity  ye  ;  'pon  me  sowl,  I  do,  thin  ;  but 
what  can  a  poor  man  like  me  do  ? "  replied  the 
landlord.  "  I  live  in  a  worse  house  nor  this,  and 
work  like  a  mule,  and  I  can't  make  enough,  for 
the  high  prices,  to  take  care  of  me  family.  Didn't 
I  wait  month  after  month  for  me  rint,  and  sorra 
a  cint  I  iver  got  ?  Sure  it  isn't  Mike  O'Shane 
that  would  do  the  likes  of  this  if  he  could  help  it." 

"  But  I  will  pay  you  all  I  ewe,  Mr.   O'Shane." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.  99 

"That's  what  ye  been  savin'  this  twelvemonth; 
and  I  can't  wait  any  longer.  Why  don't  ye  stir 
yoursilf,  and  go  among  the  rich  folks  ? " 

"  I  can't  beg,  Mr.   O'Shane." 

"  But  ye  better  beg  than  chate  me  out  of  me 
honest  dues.  Go  'way  wid  ye !  Pay  me  the  rint, 
or  give  me  the  house ;  and  sorra  one  of  me  cares 
which  you  do." 

"  I  would  move  if  I  could.  You  know  that  my 
poor  child  is  very  sick.  For  her  sake  don't  turn 
me  out  of  the  house  to-day,"  added  the  woman,  in 
the  most  beseeching  tones. 

"  Didn't  I  wait  six  months  for  the  child  to  die, 
and  she  didn't  die  ?  She  won't  die.  Sure,  don't 
she  sit  in  the  chair  all  day  ?  and  what  harm  would 
it  do  to  move  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  place  to  move  her  to." 

"  That's  what's  the  matter  !  Now  go  'way  wid 
your  blarney,  and  don't  be  talking  to  me.  It's 
Mike  O'Shane  that  has  a  soft  spot  in  his  heart, 
but  he  can't  do  no  more  for  ye.  That's  the  truth, 
and  ye  must  move  to-day." 

The  landlord  went  into  .the  house  again,  for  more 


100  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,    OR 

of  the  furniture.  As  he  had  represented,  it  was, 
doubtless,  a  hard  case  for  him ;  but  it  was  infi 
nitely  harder  for  the  poor  woman,  and  Fanny  was 
too  deeply  interested  now  to  leave  the  spot.  What 
she  had  known  of  human  misery  was  as  nothing 
compared  with  the  suffering  of  this  poor  mother. 

"  What's  the  matter,  ma'am  ? "  asked  Fanny  of 
her,  when  the  harsh  landlord  had  gone  into  the 
house. 

"  This  man  is  my  landlord,  and  he  is  turning 
me  out  of  the  house  because  I  cannot  pay  him 
the  rent,"  sobbed  the  woman.  "  I  wouldn't  care, 
if  it  wasn't  for  poor  Jenny." 

"  Who  is  Jenny  ?  " 

"  She  is  my  daughter.  She  has  been  sick,  very 
sick,  for  nearly  a  year,  and  she  cannot  live  much 
longer.  The  doctor  gave  her  up  six  months  ago." 

"  How  old  is  Jenny  ?  " 

"  She  is  fourteen ;  and  she  is  such  a  patient 
child !  She  never  complains  of  anything,  though  I 
am  not  able  to  do  much  for  her,"  replied  the  af 
flicted  mother,  as  her  tears  broke  forth  afresh  at 
the  thought  of  the  sufferer. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIAN'S.         101 

"  Haven't  you  any  place  to  go  if  this  man  turns 
you  out  of  the  house  ? "  asked  Fanny. 

"  No,  no  !  "  groaned  the  woman,  bursting  out 
into  a  terrible  paroxysm  of  grief. 

"  I  know  it's  hard  for  you,  Mrs.  Kent,  but  it's 
harder  for  me  to  do  it  than  it  is  for  you  to  have 
it  done,"  continued  Mr.  O'Shanc,  as  he  came  out 
of  the  house  with  a  rocking  chair  in  lus  hands. 

"  O  mercy !  that  is  poor  Jenny's  chair !  "  almost 
screamed  Mrs.  Kent.  "  What  have  you  done  with 
her  ?  " 

The  mother,  in  her  agony,  rushed  into  the  house 
to  ascertain  if  any  harm  had  come  to  her  suffer 
ing  daughter,  who  had  been  deprived  of  the  easy 
chair  in  which  she  was  accustomed  to  sit.  Fanny 
was  moved  to  the  depths  of  her  nature  —  moved 
as  she  had  never  been  moved  before.  She  couldn't 
have  believed  that  such  scenes  were  real.  She  had 
read  of  them  in  romances,  and  even  in  the  news 
papers  ;  but  she  had  never  realized  that  a  man 
could  be  so  hard  as  Mr.  O'Shane,  or  that  a  woman 
could  suffer  so  much  as  Mrs.  Kent.  Between  her 
grief  and  indignation  she  was  almost  overwhelmed. 
9* 


102  HOPE     AND     HAVK,     OR 

"  You  arc  a  cruel  man,"  said  she,  with  some 
thing  like  fierceness  in  her  tones. 

"  That's  very  foine  for  the  likes  of  you  to  say 
to  the  likes  of  me ;  but  it  don't  pay  me  rint," 
replied  Mr.  O'Shane,  not  as  angry  as  might  have 
been  expected  at  this  interference. 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  do 
such  a  mean  thing  !  "  added  Fanny,  her  black  eyes 
snapping  with  the  living  fire  of  her  indignation. 

"  Shall  I  let  me  own  childer  starve  for  another 
man's  childer  r "  answered  the  landlord,  who,  we 
must  do  him  the  justice  to  say,  was  ashamed  of 
himself. 

"  How  much  does  the  woman  owe  you : "  de 
manded  Fanny. 

"  A  matther  of  a  hundred  dollars  —  for  a  whole 
year's  rint.  Sure,  miss,  it  isn't  many  min  that 
Avould  wait  a  twelvemonth  for  the  rint,  and  not 
get  it  thin." 

"  And  her  daughter  is  sick  ?  " 

"  Troth  she  is  ;  there's  no  lie  in  that ;  she's  got 
the  consoomption,  and  she's  not  long  for  this  world," 
replied  the  landlord,  moving  towards  the  door  of 


THE  CKUEL   LAXDLOKD. 


Papc  103. 


FAX  XT     GXAXT     AMOXG     THE     IXDTAXS.         103 

the  house,  again  to  complete  the  work  of  desola 
tion  he  had  begun. 

"  Stop,  sir  ! "'  said  Fanny,  in  tones  so  imperative 
that  the  man  could  not  help  obeying  her. 

"What  would  I  stop  for?"  asked  Mr.  O'Shane, 
rather  vacantly. 

"  You  shall  not  do  this  cruel  thing.'' 

"  The  saints  know  how  it  breaks  me  heart  to 
do  it,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

"  Xow  you  put  all  these  things  back  into  the 
house  just  as  you  found  them.'' 

"  Faix,  I'd  like  to  do  it,  miss,"  said  the  man, 
taking  off  his  hat  and  rubbing  his  tangled  hair. 

"  You  must  do  it." 

"  And  not  git  me  rint  ?  " 

"You  shall  have  your  money  —  every  cent  of  it. 
Put  the  furniture  back,  and  you  shall  have  your 
due  just  as  soon  as  you  have  done  it,"  said  Fanny, 
as  haughtily  as  though  she  had  been  a  million 
aire. 

Mr.  O'Shane  looked  at  her,  and  seemed  to  be 
petrified  with  astonishment.  The  deed  he  was 
doing,  harsh  and  cruel  as  it  was,  he  regarded  as  a 


104  HOPE     AXD     HATE,     OR 

work  of  necessity.  Though  he  owned  the  house 
occupied  by  Mrs.  Kent,  and  another  in  which  he 
lived  himself  with  two  other  families,  both  of  them 
were  mortgaged  for  .half  their  value,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  pay  interest  on  the  money  he  owed  for 
them.  He  certainly  could  not  aiford  to  lose  his 
rent,  to  which  he  was  justly  entitled.  He  had  in 
dulged  his  tenant  for  a  year,  and  nothing  but  the 
apparent  hopelessness  of  obtaining  what  was  due 
had  tempted  him  to  this  cruel  proceeding.  Noth 
ing  but  starvation  in  his  own  family  could  justify 
a  landlord  in  turning  a  mother  with  a  dying  child 
out  of  the  house.  He  looked  at  Fanny  with  aston 
ishment  when  she  promised  to  pay  him,  but  he 
was  sceptical. 

"  Why  don't  you  put  back  the  furniture  ? "  de 
manded  Fanny,  impatiently. 

"  It's  meself  that  would  be  glad  to  do  that 
same,"  replied  he.  "  Would  you  let  me  see  the 
color  of  your  money,  miss  r " 

"  Put  the  things  back,  and  you  shall  have  your 
money  as  soon  as  you  have  done  it,"'  added  Fanny, 
moving  down  the  street.  "  I  will  be  back  in  a 
few  moments." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         105 

The  landlord  looked  at  her,  as  she  walked  away. 
He  was  in  doubt,  but  there  was  something  about 
the  girl  so  di.Terent  from  what  he  had  been  accus-, 
tomed  to  see  in  young  ladies  of  her  age,  that  he 
was  strongly  impressed  by  her  words.  Fanny  sat 
do'.vn  on  a  rock  in  the  shade  of  a  lone  tree.  Mr. 
O'Shane  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then 
decided  to  obey  the  haughty  command  he  had  re 
ceived.  Ho  wont  to  work  with  more  energy  than 
he  had  before  displayed,  and  begun  to*  move  the 
furniture  back  into  the  house,  greatly  to  the  sur 
prise  and  delight,  no  doubt,  of  the  grief-stricken 
mother. 

Fanny  counted  out  a  hundred  dollars  from  the 
stolen  bills  in  her  pocket,  and  returned  to  the 
house.  Mr.  O'Shane  had  by  this  time  completed 
his  work,  and  was  awaiting  the  result. 

"  They  be  all  put  back,  miss,"  said  he,  doubt 
fully. 

"  There  is  your  money,"  replied    Fanny,  proudly. 

Mr.  O'Shane's  eyes  opened,  and  he  fixed  them 
with  a  gloating  stare  upon  the  bills.  lie  counted 
them ;  there  was  a  hundred  dollars. 


106  HOPE     AND     HAVK,     OR 

"  God  bless  you,  miss,  for  a  saint  as  ye  arc  ! '' 
ejaculated  he,  as  he  put  the  money  in  his  pocket. 
"  Ye  saved  me  from  doing  the  worst  thing  I  ever 
did  in  me  life.  I'll  send  the  receipt  to  Mrs.  Kent 
to-day ; "  and  he  walked  away  towards  his  own 
house. 


fANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    107 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

THE     SICK     GIRL. 

THE  last  part  of  the  interview  between  Fanny 
and  Mr.  O' Shane  had  been  witnessed  by  Mrs.  Kent, 
who  came  out  of  the  house  when  she  had  at 
tended  to  the  wants  of  her  sick  child.  The  dark 
'cloud  which  menaced  her  a  few  moments  before 
had  rolled  away,  and,  if  the  sunshine  did  not  beam 
upon  her,  she  was  comparatively  happy  in  having 
one  trouble  \c*,j  to  weigh  her  down.  She  was  calm 
now,  but  the  ttars  —  they  were  tears  of  relief — 
still  rolled  down  l.cr  wan  und  furrowed  cheek. 

"  I  have  prayed  for  help,  and  help  has  come," 
said  she  to  her  deliverer,  as  the  harsh  landlord 
walked  away. 

Fanny  could  not  make  any  reply  to  a  statement 
of  this  kind.  She  was*  a  fugitive  and  a  wanderer ; 
she  was  a  thief,  shun/iing  tL_:  gaze  of  men,  and 


108  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

she  could  not  conceive  of  such  a  thing  as  that  she 
had  been  sent  as  an  angel  of  relief  to  the  poor 
woman  in  answer  to  her  prayers.  As  she  thought 
what  she  was  and  what  she  had  been  doing,  a 
blush  of  shame  suffused  her  cheek.  She  was  silent ; 
there  was  nothing  which  she  could  say  at  such  a 
moment. 

'•  Heaven  will  bless  you  for  your  good,  kind 
heart.  You  are  an  .angel,"  continued  Mrs.  Kent. 

Fanny  knew  how  far  she  was  from  being  an 
angel,  and  she  had  no  heart  for  deceiving  the  poor 
woman.  It  might  be  fun  and  excitement  to  de 
ceive  the  people  at  AVoodville,  but  Mrs.  Kent  seemed 
to  be  sanctified  by  her  sorrows. 

"  I  hope  you  haven't  robbed  yourself  by  your 
good  deed,  miss,''  added  the  poor  woman,  wonder 
ing  why  Fanny  did  not  speak. 

"  O,  no !    I  have  some  more  money." 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Kent  thought  it  singular  that  a 
young  girl,  like  Fanny,  should  happen  to  have  so 
much  money  about  her,  but  she  did  not  ask  any 
questions;  and  perhaps  she  did  not  think  that  one 
who  hucl  been  so  kind  to  her  could  do  anything  wrong. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          109 

"  Now,  you  will  come  into  the  house  and  see 
poor  Jenny.  She  will  want  to  thank  you  for  what 
you  have  done,"  said  Mrs.  Kent,  leading  the  way 
to  the  door. 

Fanny  could  not  refuse  this  reasonable  request, 
but  she  felt  very  strangely.  She  found  herself 
commended  and  reverenced  for  what  she  had  done, 
and  she  could  not  help  feeling  how  unworthy  she 
was.  Conscious  that  she  had  performed  a  really 
good  deed,  she  could  not  reconcile  it  with  her  past 
conduct.  It  was  utterly  inconsistent  with  the  base 
act  she  had  done  in  the  morning ;  and  in  the  light 
of  one  deed  the  other  seemed  so  monstrous  that 
she  almost  loathed  herself. 

She  followed  Mrs.  Kent  into  the  room  where  the 
sick  girl  was  reclining  upon  the  bed.  There  was 
no  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  the  apartment  was  very 
meagerly  furnished  with  the  rudest  and  coarsest 
articles.  Jenny  was  pale  and  emaciated ;  the  hand 
of  death  seemed  to  be  already  upon  her ;  but  in 
spite  of  her  paleness  and  her  emaciation,  there  was 
something  beautiful  in  her  face  ;  something  in  the 
expression  of  her  languid  eyes  which  riveted 
10 


110  IIOrE      AND     HAVE,      OR 

the  attention  and  challenged  the  interest  of  thtf 
visitor. 

"  Jenny,  this  is  the  young  lady  whom  God  ha? 
sent  to  be  our  friend,"  said  Mrs.  Kent,  as  they 
approached  the  bedside. 

Fanny  shuddered.  "  Whom  God  had  sent "  — 
she,  a  thief !  She  wanted  to  cry ;  she  wanted  to 
shrink  back  into  herself. 

"  May  I  take  your  hand  ?  "  asked  Jenny,  in  feeble 
tones. 

Fanny  complied  with  the  request  in  silence,  and 
•with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor.  The  sick  girl 
took  the  offered  hand  in  her  own,  which  was  almost 
as  cold  as  marble. 

"  Mother  has  prayed  to  Our  Good  Father,  and  I 
have  prayed  to  Him  all  the  time  for  help,"  said 
Jenny,  whose  accents  were  hardly  above  a  whisper. 
"  He  has  sent  you  to  us,  and  you  have  saved  us. 
"Will  you  tell  me  your  name  ? " 

"  Fanny  Grant." 

"  Fanny,  I  am  going  to  heaven  soon,  and  I  will 
bear  your  name  in  my  heart  when  I  go.  I  will 
bless  you  for  your  good  deed  while  I  have  breath, 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          Ill 

and  I  will  bless  you  when  I  get  to  heaven.  You 
are  a  good  girl,  and  I  know  that  God  will  bless 
you  too." 

Poor  Fanny !  How  mean  she  felt !  As  she  stood 
in  the  presence  of  that  pure-minded  child,  already 
an  angel  in  simple  trust  and  confiding  hope,  she 
realized  her  own  wickedness.  The  burden  of  her 
sins  seemed  to  be  settling  down  upon  her  with  a 
weight  that  would  crush  her. 

"  I  love  you,  Fanny,"  continued  the  invalid,  "  and 
I  will  pray  for  you  to  the  last  moment  of  my  life. 
Won't  you  speak  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  do  what  I  did,"  stammered 
Fanny,  almost  suffocated  by  the  weight  which 
pressed  down  upon  her. 

"  I  know  you  are  ;  for  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  you  are  so  sick.  Can  I  do 
anything  to  help  you  ?  " 

"You  have  done  all  that  could  be  done,  Fanny. 
I  like  to  speak  your  name.  It  sounds  like  music 
to  me.  After  what  you  have  done,  Fanny  will 


/12  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

always  mean  goodness  to  me.  You  cannot  do  any 
thing  more  ;  you  have  already  done  enough." 

"  Don't  you  want  anything  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  am  happy  now.  I  shall  soon  pass  away, 
and  go  to  my  Saviour." 

Mrs.  Kent  sobbed. 

"  Don't  cry,  mother,"  continued  Jenny.  "  God 
will  take  care  of  you,  and  we  shall  meet  again." 

"  Can't  I  get  anything  for  you,  Jenny  ?  Isn't 
there  anything  you  want  ? "  asked  Fanny,  who  felt 
that  she  must  do  something,  or  she  would  soon  be 
overwhelmed  by  the  emotions  which  agitated  her 
soul. 

"  Nothing,  Fanny.  I  don't  think  much  of  the 
things  around  me  now.  I  feel  just  as  though  I 
didn't  belong  here.  This  is  not  my  home.  Can 
you  sing,  Fanny  ?  " 

"  I  do  sing,  sometimes,"  replied"  she. 

"  Will  you  sing  to  me  ? " 

"  I  will ;    what  shall  I  sing  ?  " 

"  Something  about  heaven  ?  "  answered  Jenny,  as 
she  sank  back  upon  the  pillow,  and  fixed  her  gaze 
upon  the  ceiling,  as  though  beyond  it  she  could 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    113 

see  the  happy  home  which  was  ever  ia  her 
thoughts. 

Fanny,  as  we  have  said  before,  was  a  remarkable 
singer,  not  in  the  artistic  sense,  though,  with  proper 
cultivation  of  her  talent,  she  might  have  been  all 
this  also.  She  had  a  fine  voice,  and  sang  as  natural 
ly  as  the  birds  sing.  But  this  was  not  an  occasion 
for  artistic  effects.  Never  before  had  the  soul  of  the 
wayward  girl  been  so  stirred.  She  was  a  Sunday- 
school  scholar,  and  familiar  with  most  of  the  beau 
tiful  and  touching  melodies  contained  in  children's 
song-books. 

She  was  asked  to  sing  "  something  about  heaven  ; " 
and  she  began  at  once,  as  though  it  had  been  selected 
by  some  invisible  agency  and  impressed  upon  her 
mind,  with  the  beautiful  hymn :  — 

"There's  a  home  for  the  poor  on  that  beautiful  shore 

When  life  and  its  sorrows  are  ended  ; 
And  sweetly  they'll  rest  in  that  home  of  the  blest, 

By  the  presence  of  angels  attended. 
There's  a  home  for  the  sad,  and  their  hearts  will  be  glad 

When  they've  crossed  over  Jordan  so  dreary ; 
For  bright  is  the  dome  of  that  radiant  home 

Where  so  softly  repose  all  the  weary." 

10* 


114  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

The  "  home  for  the  poor  on  that  beautiful 
shore "  seemed  to  be  almost  in  sight  of  the  singer, 
for  the  pale,  dying  girl  spread  heaven  around  her ; 
and  Fanny  sang  as  she  had  never  sung  before. 
She  could  hardly  keep  down  the  tears  which  strug 
gled  for  birth  in  her  dim  eyes,  and  her  sweet 
voice  was  attuned  to  the  sentiment  of  the  words 
she  sang,  which  were  wedded  to  a  melody  so  touch 
ing  as  to  suggest  the  heaven  it  spoke  of. 

There  was  a  seraphic  smile  on  the  wan  face  of 
Jenny  as  the  singer  finished  the  first  verse,  and  she 
clasped  her  thin  white  hands  above  her  breast  in 
the  ecstasy  of  her  bliss.  Fanny  sang  the  four  verses 
of  the  hymn,  and  every  moment  of  the  time  seemed 
to  be  a  moment  of  rapture  to  the  dying  girl. 

"  How  beautiful !  "  cried  Jenny,  after  a  period  of 
silence  at  the  conclusion  of  the  hymn.  "  I  have 
never  been  so  happy,  Fanny.  Let  me  take  your 
hand  in  mine  again." 

"  Can  I  do  anything  more  for  you?"  asked  Fanny, 
as  she  gave  her  hand  to  the  invalid. 

"  No,  nothing.  It  will  make  you  tired  to  sing 
any  more  now." 


FANNY     GT5ANT     AMON3     THE     INDIANS.         115 

"  O,  no  !     I  could  sing  all  day." 

"  But  the  sweet  strains  you  h  we  just  sung  still 
linger  in  my  soul.  Let  me  hold  your  hand  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  I  will  go  to  sleep  if  I  can.  I  like 
to  hold  your  hand  —  you  are  so  good." 

Fanny  despised  herself.  She  wanted  to  tell  Jenny 
what  a  monster  of  wickedness  she  felt  herself  to  be, 
and  she  would  have  done  so  if  it  had  not  been  for 
giving  pain  to  the  gentle  sufferer. 

"  I  would  like  to  go  to  heaven  now,  holding  your 
hand,  and  mother's,  and  Eddy's ;  for  it  seems  to  me 
I  could  carry  you  up  to  the  Saviour  with  me  then, 
and  give  you  all  to  him ;  and  he  would  love  you 
f  r  my  sake,  and  because  you  are  so  good.  Eut 
I  shall  never  forget  you ;  I  shall  bear  your  name 
to  heaven  with  me,  Fanny." 

The  wicked  girl  shuddered.  "  Depart  from  me," 
seemed  to  be  the  only  message  the  Saviour  had  for 
her. 

"  Let  me  do  something  more  for  you,"  said  Fanny, 
who  could  not  endure  to  be  called  good  by  one  who 
was  so  near  heaven  that  there  could  be  no  hypocrisy 
or  shadow  of  deceit  in  her  heart. 


116  HOPE     ANI>     HAVE,     OR 

"  You  may  sing  me  one  more  hymn,  if  you  are 
not  too  tired,"  replied  Jenny. 

"  O,  no !  I  am  never  tired  of  singing  ; "  and  she 
sang  the  song  containing  the  refrain,  "  There  is 
sweet  rest  in  heaven,"  with  exquisite  taste  and 
feeling. 

Mrs.  Kent  whispered  that  Jenny  must  be  weary 
now,  -and  Fanny  took  the  hand  of  the  sick  girl,  to 
bid  her  good  by. 

"  Good  by,  Fanny.  I  shall  never  see  you  again ; 
but  we  shall  meet  in  heaven,"  said  Jenny,  with  her 
sweetest  smile. 

"  I  will  come  and  see  you  again,  if  I  can." 

"  How  happy  it  would  make  me  !  " 

"  Perhaps  I  will  come  again  to-day." 

"  I'm  afraid  if  you  don't,  I  shall  never  see  you 
in  this  world  again." 

"  I   will  come  to-day." 

"  Good  by,"  added  Jenny,  languidly,  as  Fanny 
followed  Mrs.  Kent  out  of  the  room. 

"Isn't  there  anything  I  can  bring  to  her?"  asked 
Fanny,  when  they  had  passed  into  the  other  room. 

"  I  don't  know.      Poor  child  !   she  knows  how  little 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    117 

I  can  do  for  her,  and  she  never  says  she  wants 
anything.  She  is  very  fond  of  flowers,  and  Eddy 
used  to  bring  her  dandelion  blossoms,  but  these  are 
all  gone  now." 

"  I  will  bring  her  some  flowers,"  replied  Fanny, 
who  could  not  help  wishing  for  some  of  the  beau 
tiful  flowers  which  grew  in  such  profusion  at  Wood- 
ville. 

But  to  her  "Woodville  now  seemed  as  far  off  as 
the  heaven  of  which  she  had  been  singing  to  the 
dying  girl ;  but  she  thought  she  could  obtain  some 
flowers  in  the  city ;  and  she  felt  as  though  she 
would  give  all  the  rest  of  her  ill-gotten  treasure 
for  a  single  bouquet. 

Fanny  begged  Mrs.  Kent  to  tell  her  if  there  was 
anything  she  could  do  for  the  sick  daughter,  or  for 
the  family ;  and  the  poor  woman  confessed  that  she 
had  nothing  in  the  house  to  eat  except  half  a  loaf 
of  bread,  which  was  to  be  their  dinner.  Lest  her 
visitor  should  think  her  destitution  was  caused  by 
her  own  fault,  she  related  the  story  of  hardships 
she  had  undergone  since  her  husband  departed  with 
his  regiment. 


118  HOPE     AXD     1IAVK,     Oil 

Mr.  Kent  was  a  mechanic,  and  having  been 
thrown  out  of  employment  by  the  dull  times  at 
the  commencement  of  the  Avar,  he  had  enlisted  in 
one  of  the  regiments  that  departed  earliest  for  the 
scene  of  hostilities.  He  had  left  his  family  with 
only  a  small  sum  of  money,  and  had  promised  to 
send  all  his  pay  to  his  wife,  as  soon  as  it  was 
received.  Mr.  Kent's  regiment  had  been  engaged 
in  the  disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Run,  since  which 
he  had  not  been  heard  from.  It  was  known  that 
he  had  been  taken  prisoner,  but  when  exchanges 
were  made  he  did  not  appear.  His  wife  was  un 
willing  to  believe  that  he  was  dead,  and  still  hoped 
for  tidings  of  him. 

Jenny  was  sick  when  her  father  departed,  but  it 
was  not  supposed  to  be  a  dangerous  illness ;  perhaps 
it  would  not  have  been  if  she  had  been  supplied 
with  the  comforts  of  lifp.  The  family  had  been 
driven  from  the  more  comfortable  abode,  in  which 
Mr.  Kent  had  left  them,  to  Mr.  O'Shane's  miserable 
hovel.  The  poor  woman  had  gone  out  to  work 
until  Jenny's  condition  demanded  her  constant  at 
tention.  She  had  then  obtained  what  sewing  she 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  IXIHANS.    119 

could ;  but  with  all  her  exertions  she  was  hardly 
able  to  obtain  food  for  her  family,  to  say  nothing 
of  procuring  clothes,  and  paying  the  rent. 

Mrs.  Kent  lived  by  herself,  having  little  or  no 
communication  with  the  world  around  her.  She 
had  heard  of  the  provision  for  soldiers'  families, 
and  had  made  an  effort  to  obtain  this  aid ;  but 
she  was  unable  to  prove  that  she  was  a  soldier's 
wife,  and  being  delicate  and  sensitive,  she  had  not 
the  courage  to  face  the  rebuffs  of  the  officials  a 
second  time. 

Fanny  listened  to  this  story  with  but  little  inter 
est.  She  was  thinking  of  Jenny,  whose  sweet  smile 
of  holy  rapture  still  lingered  in  her  mind.  Promising 
to  do  something  for  the  family,  she  took  leave  of 
Mrs.  Kent,  who  had  no  words  to  express  the  grati 
tude  she  felt  towards  her  benefactor.  Fanny  went 
to  the  nearest  store,  and  purchased  a  liberal  supply 
of  provisions  and  groceries,  which  she  sent  back  to 
the  house.  She  felt  better  then,  and  walked  down 
the  street  till  she  came  to  a  horse  car,  in  which  she 
rode  down  to  the  Park. 


120  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 


CHAPTER     IX. 

HOPE     AND     HAVE. 

\ 

FANNY  got  out  of  the  horse  car  at  the  Park. 
She  was  in  the  midst  of  the  great  city,  but  she 
felt  no  interest  in  the  moving,  driving  scene  around 
her,  for  the  thought  of  poor  Jenny  still  engrossed 
her.  She  had  even  forgotten  Mr.  Long,  and  the 
dreaded  policemen  who  might  be  on  the  watch  for 
her.  This  was  the  good  time  for  which  she  had 
stolen  the  money  and  run  away  from  her  happy 
home  at  Woodville.  It  was  a  mockery,  and  she 
even  wished  she  had  been  caught  before  she  left 
Pennville. 

It  was  now  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  though 
hours  enough  seemed  to  have  elapsed  since  she 
left  Woodville  to  make  a  week.  She  had  eaten 
nothing  but  an  ice-cream  since  breakfast,  and  she 
was  faint  from  the  excitement  and  the  exertion  of 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          121 

the  day.  She  found  a  saloon  for  ladies,  and  en 
tered  ;  but  the  nice  things  of  which  she  had 
dreamed  in  the  morning  no  longer  existed  for  her. 
She  ate  a  simple  dinner,  and  walked  down  Broad 
way  till  she  came  to  the  Museum,  which  she  had 
regarded  as  an  important  element  in  the  enjoyment 
of  her  week  in  the  city. 

She  paid  the  admission  fee,  and  went  in.  She 
wandered  from  room  to  room  among  the  curiosi 
ties,  hardly  caring  for  anything  she  saw,  .till  she 
came  to  the  exhibition-room,  where  plays  were 
acted.  She  had  never  seen  a  play  performed,  and 
she  had  looked  forward  with  brilliant  anticipations 
to  the  pleasure  of  seeing  one.  She  was  disap 
pointed,  for  it  had  not  entered  into  her  calcula 
tion  that  a  'clean  conscience  is  necessary  for  the 
full  enjoyment  of  anything.  The  actors  and  the 
actresses  strutted  their  brief  hour  before  her  ;  but 
to  her  the  play  was  incomprehensible  and  silly.  It 
had  no  meaning,  and  even  the  funny  things  which 
the  low  comedian  said  and  did  could  not  make  her 
laugh.  Before  the  performance  was  half  finished,  she 
had  enough  of  it,  and  left  the  place  in  disgust. 
11 


122  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

Jenny  Kent  was  rapturously  happy,  dying  in  a 
hovel,  in  the  midst  of  poverty  and  want,  while  she 
was  miserable  with  health  and  strength,  with  plenty 
to  eat,  drink,  and  wear.  Fanny  tried  to  shake  off 
the  strange  depression  which  had  so  suddenly  come 
over  her.  She  had  never  been  troubled  with  any 
such  thoughts  and  feelings  before.  If  she  had  occa 
sionally  been  sorry  for  her  wrong  acts,  it  was  only 
a  momentary  twinge,  which  hardly  damped  her 
spirits.  She  was  weighed  down  to  the  earth,  and 
she  could  not  rid  herself  of  the  burden  that  op 
pressed  her.  She  wanted  to  go  into  some  dark 
corner  and  cry.  She  felt  that  it  would  do  her  good 
to  weep,  and  to  suffer  even  more  than  she  had  yet 
been  called  upon  to  endure. 

"  I'll  bear  your  name  to  heaven  with  me,"  had 
been  the  words  of  the  dying  girl  to  Fanny  ;  but 
what  a  reproach  her  name  would  be  to  the  pure 
and  good  of  the  happy  land !  In  some  manner, 
not  evident  to  our  human  sight,  or  understood  by 
our  human  minds,  the  words  of  Jenny  Sad  given 
the  wayward  girl  a  full  view  of  herself — had 
turned  her  thoughts  in  upon  the  barrenness  of  her 


FAXNY     GRANT     AMON'G     THE     INDIANS.         123 

own  heart.  Her  wrong  acts,  so  trivial  to  her  be 
fore,  were  now  magnified  into  mountains,  and  the 
crime  she  had  committed  that  morning  was  so 
monstrous  and  abominable  that  she  abhorred  her 
self  for  it. 

In  spite  of  the  reproaches  which  every  loving 
word  of  the  dying  girl  hurled  into  the  conscience 
of  Fanny,  there  was  a  strange  and  unaccountable 
fascination  in  the  languid  look  of  the  sweet  suf 
ferer.  Wherever  she  turned,  Jenny  seemed  to  be 
looking  at  her  with  a  glance  full  of  heaven,  while 
the  black  waters  of  her  own  soul  rose  up  to  choke 
her. 

Fanny  struggled  to  get  rid  of  these  strange 
thoughts,  but  she  could  not ;  and  she  was  com 
pelled  to  give  herself  wholly  up  to  them.  Some 
thing,  she  knew  not  what,  drew  her  irresistibly 
towards  the  dying  girl,  and  she  started  up  Broad 
way  to  find  the  flowers  she  had  promised  to  carry 
to  her.  In  a  shop  window  she  saw  what  she 
wanted.  The  flowers  were  of  the  rarest  and  most 
costly  kinds  ;  but  nothing  was  too  good  for  Jenny, 
and  she  paid  four  dollars  for  a  bouquet.  In 


124  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OK 

another  store  she  purchased  some  jelly  and  other 
delicacies  such  as  she  had  seen  the  ladies  at 
Woodville  send  to  sick  people.  Thus  prepared  to 
meet  the  dying  girl,  she  took  a,  horse  car,  and  by 
six  o'clock  reached  the  humble  abode  of  Mrs.  Kent. 

"  How  is  Jenny  ? "  asked  she,  as  she  entered 
the  house,  without  the  ceremony  of  knocking. 

"  She  don't  seem  so  well  this  afternoon,"  replied 
Mrs.  Kent. 

"  Does  she  have  a  doctor  ?  " 

"  Not  now ;  we  had  one  a  while  ago,  but  he 
said  he  could  do  nothing  for  her.'' 

"Don't  you  think  we  had  better  have  one?" 

"  He  might  do  something  to  make  her  easy,  but 
Jenny  don't  complain.  She  never  speaks  of  her 
pains." 

"  I  have  come  to  stay  all  night  with  Jenny,  if 
you  are  willing  I  should,"  continued  Fanny,  doubt 
fully. 

"  You  are  very  kind." 

"  I  will  only  sit  by  her ;  I  won't  talk  to  her." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  you  stay ;  and 
Jenny  thinks  ever  so  much  of  you." 


FAXNY     GKAXT     AMONG     THE     IXDIANS.          125 

"  If  you  please,  I  will  go  after  a  doctor." 
Mrs.  Kent  consented,  and  Fanny,  after  sending 
in  her  bouquet,  went  for  a  physician  whose  name 
she  had  seen  on  a  fine  house  near  Central  Park, 
judging  from  the  style  in  which  he  lived  that  he 
must  be  a  great  man.  She  found  him  at  home, 
and  he  consented  to  return  with  her  to  Mrs.  Kent's 
house,  lie  examined  Jenny  very  carefully,  and 
prescribed  some  medicine  which  might  make  her 
more  comfortable.  He  did  not  pretend  that  he 
could  do  anything  more  for  her,  and  he  told  Fanny 
that  the  sufferer  could  not  live  many  days,  and 
might  pass  away  in  a  few  hours.  Fanny  offered 
him  his  fee  ;  he  blushed,  and  peremptorily  refused 
it.  Physicians  who  live  in  fine  houses  are  often 
kinder  to  the  poor  than  the  charlatans  who  prey 
upon  the  lowest  strata  of  society. 

Fanny  procured  the  medicine  which  the  kind- 
hearted  doctor  had  prescribed,  and  administered 
it  with  her  own  hands.  Jenny  gave  her  such  a 
sweet  smile  of  grateful  encouragement,  that  she 
was  sorry  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done  for 
her. 

11  * 


126  HOPE     AXD     HATE,     OR 

"  Xow  sit  down,  Fanny,  and  let  me  take  your 
hand.  I  feel  better  to-night  than  I  have  felt  for  a 
long  time." 

"  I  am  glad  you  do,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  You  have  made  me  so  happy  !  " 

"  I  wish  I  was  as  good  as  you  are,  Jenny,"  said 
Fanny,  struggling  with  the  emotions  which  surged 
through  her  soul. 

"  You  are  better  than  I  am." 

"  0,  no!" 

"  You  are  an  angel !  You  have  been  as  good 
as  you  could  be.  Fanny,  we  shall  meet  in  heaven, 
for  I  feel  just  as  though  I  could  not  live  many 
days.  We  shall  be  friends  there,  if  we  cannot 
long  be  here." 

"  I  hope  you  will  get  better,"  added  Fanny, 
because  she  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  say. 

"  Xo,  I  may  die  before  morning,  Fanny ;  but  I 
am  ready.  You  are  so  good " 

"  O,  Jenny !  I  am  not  good !  I  cannot  deceive 
you  any  longer ! "  exclaimed  Fanny,  bursting  into 
tears. 

"  Xow  I   know  that  you   are    good.     The   blessed 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.   127 

Bible  says,  '  He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be 
exalted.'  I'm  glad  you  don't  think  you  are  good." 

"  But  I  am  not  good,  indeed  I  am  not,"  sobbed 
Fanny. 

"  Don't  weep,  dear  Fanny.  I  know  how  you 
feel ;  I  have  felt  just  so  myself,  when  it  seemed 
to  me  I  was  so  wicked  I  couldn't  live." 

"  You  don't  know  how  wicked  I  have  been ; 
what  monstrous  things  I  have  done,"  added  Fanny, 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands.  "  If  you  knew, 
you  would  despise  me." 

"  You  wrong  yourself,  Fanny.  Such  a  good, 
kind  heart  as  you  have  would  not  let  you  do 
anything  very  bad." 

"  I  have  done  what  was  v«ry  bad,  Jenny ;  I 
have  been  the  worst  girl  in  the  whole  world;  but 
I  am  so  sorry  !  " 

"  I  know  you  are.  If  you  have  done  anything 
Avrong,  —  we  all  do  wrong  sometimes,  —  you  could 
not  help  being  sorry.  Your  heart  is  good." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  did  ? "  aske<\  Fanny, 
in  a  low  and  doubtful  tone. 

"O,   no!      Don't    tell   me;   tell    it    to   God       He 


128  HOPE  /  AND     HAVE,     OR 

will  pity  and  forgive  you  because  you  are  really 
sorry." 

"  You  would  despise  me  if  you  knew  how 
wicked  I  have  been.  It  was  seeing  you,  and 
thinking  how  good  you  are,  which  made  me  feel 
chat  I  had  done  wrong." 

"  I'm  sure,  after  all  you  have  done  for  mother 
and  for  me,  I  can't  help  believing  that  you  are  an 
angel.  I  love  you,  and  I  know  that  you  are 
good." 

"  I  mean  to  be  good,  Jenny.  From  this  time  I 
shall  try  to  do  better  than  I  ever  did  before," 

"  Then  you  will  be,  Fanny." 

"  I  don't  think  I  ever  tried  to  be  good,  but  I 
shall  now,"  replied  the  penitent  girl,  as  she  wiped 
away  her  tears. 

Jenny  seemed  to  be  weary,  and  Fanny  sat  by 
the  bedside  gazing  in  silence  at  her  beautiful  and 
tranquil  expression.  The  sufferer  was  looking  at 
the  rich  flowers  of  the  bouquet,  which  had  been 
placed  on  a  stand  at  the  side  of  the  bed.  They 
were  a  joy  to  her,  a  connecting  link  between  the 
beautiful  of  heaven  and  the  beautiful  of  earth. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     TIIK     INDIAN -i.          129 

"  Will  you  sing  me  a  hymn,  Fanny  r "  asked 
the  sick  girl,  without  removing  her  gaze  from  the 
flowers. 

Without  any  other  reply  to  the  question,  Fanny 
immediately  sang  this  verse  :  — 

"  If  God  hath  made  this  \vorM  so  fair, 

Where  sin  and  death  abound, 
How  beautiful,  beyond  compare, 
"Will  Paradise,  be  found  !  " 

"  How  beautiful  ! "  murmured  Jenny,  her  eyes 
still  fixed  upon  the  flowers.  "  Will  you  take  out 
that  moss-rose,  Fanny,  and  let  me  hold  it  in  my 
hand  ?  " 

Fanny  gave  her  the  flower,  and  then  sang  an 
other  hymn.  For  an  hour  she  continued  to  sing, 
and  Jenny  listened  to  the  sweet  melodies,  entranced 
and  enraptured  by  the  visions  of  heaven  which 
filled  her  soul.  Then  she  asked  Fanny  to  read  to 
her  from  the  Bible,  indicating  the  book  and  chap 
ter,  which  was  the  eighth  chapter  of  Romans. 

"  '  For  we  are  saved  by  hope,'  "  Fanny  read. 

"  Now,  stop  a  moment :  '  For  we  are  saved  by 
hope,' "  said  the  sufferer.  "  Do  you  know  what 
the  emblem  of  Hope  is,  Fanny  ?  " 


139  IIOl'E     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  An  anchor." 

"  Will  you  hand  me  that  little  box  on  the 
table  ? " 

Fanny  passed  the  box  to  her,  and  she  took 
from  it  a  little  gold  breastpin,  in  the  form  of  an 
anchor. 

"  This  was  given  to  me  by  my  father  when  I 
was  a  little  girl.  My  Sunday-school  teacher  told 
me  years  ago  what  an  anchor  was  the  emblem  of", 
and  told  me  at  the  same  time  to  remember  the 
verse  you  have  just  read  — '  For  we  are  saved  by 
hope.'  That  anchor  has  often  reminded  me  what 
was  to  save  me  from  sin.  Fanny,  I  will  give  you 
this  breastpin  to  remember  me  by." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  you,  Jenny,  as  long  as  I 
live  !  "  said  Fanny,  earnestly. 

"  But  when  you  remember  me,  I  want  you  to 
think  what  the  anchor  means.  You  say  you  are 
not  good,  but  I  know  you  are.  You  mean  to  be 
good,  you  hope  to  be  good ;  and  that  will  make 
you  good.  Do  you  know  we  can  always  have  what 
we  hope  for,  if  it  is  right  that  we  should  have  it  ? 
What  we  desire  most  we  labor  the  hardest  for.  If 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     T?HE     INDIANS.          131 

you  really  and  truly  wish  to  be  good,  you  will   be 
good." 

Fanny  took  the  breastpin.  If  it  had  been  worth 
thousands  of  dollars,  it  would  not  have  been  more 
precious  to  her.  Ic  was  the  gift  of  the  loving  and 
gentle  being  who  was  soon  to  be  transplanted, 
from  earth  to  heaven ;  of  the  beautiful  girl  who 
had  influenced  her  as  she  had  never  been  influenced 
before ;  who  had  lifted  her  soul  into  a  new  atmos 
phere.  She  placed  it  upon  her  bosom,  and  re 
solved  never  to  part  with  it  as  long  as  she  lived. 

"  Hope  and  have,  Fanny,"'  said  Jenny,  when  she 
had  rested  for  a  time.  "  Hope  for  what  is  good 
and  true,  and  you  sho.ll  have  it ;  for  if  you  really 
desire  it,  you  will  be  sure  to  labor  and  to  struggle 
for  it." 

"  Hope  and  have,"  repeated  Fanny.  "  Your 
anchor  shall  mean  this  to  me.  Jenny,  I  feel  hap 
pier  already,  for  I  really  and  truly  mean  to  be 
good.  But  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  how  wicked 
I  am." 

"  Xo,  don't  tell  me ;  tell  your  mother." 

"  I  have  no  mother." 


132  H«PK    AND    HAVK,    OR 

"  Then  you  are  poorer  than  I  am." 

"  And  no  father." 

"  Poor  Fanny !  Then  you  have  had  no  one  to 
tell  you  how  to  be  good." 

"  Yes,  I  have  the  kindest  and  best  of  friends ; 
but  I  have  been  very  ungrateful." 

"  They  will  forgive  you,  for  you  are  truly  sorry." 

"  Perhaps  they  will." 

"  I  know  they  will." 

Jenny  was  weary  again,  and  Fanny  sang  in  her 
softest  and  sweetest  tones  once  more.  It  was  now 
the  twilight  of  a  long  summer  day,  and  Mrs.  Kent, 
having  finished  her  household  duties,  came  into  the 
room.  Soon  after,  the  sufferer  was  seized  with  a 
violent  fit  of  coughing,  which  seemed  to  weaken 
and  reduce  her  beyond  the  possibility  of  recovery. 
When  it  left  her,  she  could  not  speak  aloud. 

"  I  am  going,  mother,"  said  she,  a  little  later. 
"  Fanny  !  " 

"I  am  here,"  replied  Fanny,  almost  choked  with 
emotion. 

"  We  shall  meet  in  heaven,"  said  the  dying  one. 
"  Have  you  been  very  naughty  ?  " 


FANNY  G3ANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    133 

"  I  have,"   sobbed  Fanny. 

Jenny  asked  for  paper  and  pencil,  and  when  her 
mother  had  raised  her  on  the  bed,  she  wrote,  with 
trembling  hand,  these  words  :  — 

"  Phase  to  forgive  Fanny,  for  the  sake  of  her 
dying  friend,  Jenny  Kent." 

"  Take  this,  Fanny  :   God  will  forgive  you." 

It  was  evident  to  the  experienced  eye  of  Mrs. 
Kent  that  Jenny  was  going  from  earth.  The  suf 
ferer  lay  with  her  gaze  fixed  upon  the  ceiling,  and 
her  hands  clasped,  as  in  silent  prayer.  She  seemed 
to  be  communing  with  the  angels.  She  struggled 
for  breath,  and  her  mother  watched  her  in  the 
most  painful  anxiety. 

"  Good  by,  mother,"  said  she,  at  last.  "  Good 
by,  Eddy :  I'm  going  home." 

Mrs.  Kent  took  her  offered  hand,  and  kisse< 
her,  struggling  all  the  time  to  be  calm.  LittL : 
Eddy  was  raised  up  to  the  bed,  and  kissed  his 
departing  sister. 

"  Fanny,"  gasped  she,  extending  her  trembling 
hand. 

12 


134  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

Fanny  took  the  hand. 

"Good  by." 

"  Good  by,  Jenny,"  she  answered,  awed  and 
trembling  with  agitation  at  the  impressive  scene. 

The  dying  girl  closed  her  eyes.  But  a  moment 
after  she  pressed  the  hand  of  Fanny,  and  mur 
mured,  — 

"  HorE  AND  HAVE." 

She  was  silent  then ;  her  bosom  soon  ceased 
to  heave  ;  the  ransomed  spirit  rose  from  the  pain- 
encumbered  body,  and  soared  away  to  its  angel- 
home  ! 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         135 


CHAPTER     X. 

GOOD     OUT     OF     EVIL. 

PEACEFULLY,  on  what  had  been  her  couch  of 
pain,  lay  the  silent  form  of  Jenny.  The  room 
resounded  with  the  sobs  of  the  mother  and  the 
brother,  and  hardly  less  with  the  wailings  of  the 
stranger,  who,  in  a  few  brief  hour's  had  found  and 
lost  the  truest  and  best  of  earthly  friends.  The 
darkness  gathered,  and  still  they  wept  —  the  dark 
ness  from  which  Jenny  had  fled  to  the  brightness 
of  the  eternal  world,  where  there  is  no  night  or 
sorrow.  There  was  woe  in  that  humble  abode, 
while  heaven's  high  arches  rang  with  paeans  of 
rejoicing  that  a  ransomed  soul  had  joined  the  happy 
bands  above. 

There  were  no  kind  and  sympathizing  friends  to 
go  into  that  hovel  and  deck  the  marble  form  in 
the  vestments  of  the  grave.  Fanny  was  the  first 


136  II 01' 10     AND     1IA\  !•:,     OR 

to  rcali/c  that  there  was  something  to  be  done : 
si ic  was  a  stranger  to  such  a  scene  ;  she  knew  not 
what  to  do ;  but  she  told  Mrs.  Kent  that  she  would 
i:;o  out  and  obtain  assistance.  With  hurried  step 
.^lie  walked  down  to  the  residence  of  the  physician 
who  had  so  gently  and  feelingly  ministered  to  the 
sufferer.  She  found  the  doctor  at  home,  and  in 
formed  him  of  the  sad  event.  Since  his  return  he 
ha  1  told  his  wife  and  daughter  of  the  beautiful 
girl  who  was  dying  in  the  cottage  up  the  street. 
He  called  them  into  his  library,  and  Fanny,  with 
tearful  eyes  and  broken  voice,  repeated  her  narrative 
of  the  passing  away  of  poor  Jenny. 

The  ladies  promptly  expressed  their  intention  to 
visit  the  bereaved  mother,  and  discharge  the  duties 
the  occasion  required.  A  carriage  was  called,  in 
which  the  benevolent  physician,  his  wife  and 
daughter,  and  Fanny,  proceeded  to  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Kent.  They  were  the  kindest  and  tenderest 
of  friends,  and  the  sorrowing  mother,  grateful  to 
them  for  their  good  offices,  and  grateful  to  God  for 
sending  thorn  to  hrr,  was  relieved  of  a  great  load 
of  p.iin  air.l  anxiety.  At  a  late  hour  they  departed, 


PANNY     GRANT     AilONG     THE     INDIANS.         137 

with,  the  promise  to  come  again  on  the  following 
day. 

Hour  after  hour  Mrs.  Kent  and  Fanny  sat  in  the 
chamber  of  death,  talking  about  the  gentle  one  who 
hud  passed  away,  and  was  at  rest.  It  was  nearly 
morning  before  Fanny,  worn  out  by  excitement  and 
fatigv.e,  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  take  the  rest  she 
needed.  Mrs.  Kent  made  a  bed  for  her  on  the 
kitchen  floor,  and  she  slept  for  a  few  hours.  When 
she  awoke,  her  first  thought  was  of  Jenny ;  and  all 
the  events  of  the  previous  day  and  evening  passed 
in  review  before  her.  Her  soul  had  been  sanctified 
by  communion  with  the  sainted  spirit  of  her  de 
parted  friend.  On  the  day  before,  her  current  of 
being  seemed  suddenly  to  have  stopped  in  its  course, 
and  then  to  have  taken  a  new  direction.  Her 
thoughts,  her  hopes,  her  aspirations  had  all  been, 
changed.  She  had  resolved  to  be  good  —  so  solemnly 
and  truly  resolved  to  be  good,  that  she  felt  like  a 
new  creature. 

She  prayed  to  the  good  Father,  who  had  been 
revealed  to  her  by  the  dying  girl ;  and  from  her 
prayers  came  a  strength  which  was  a  new  life  to 


138  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OH 

her  soul.  From  her  strong  desire  to  be  good —  to  be 
what  Jenny  had  been  —  had  grown  up  a  new  faith. 

In  the  forenoon  came  the  wife  and  daughter  of 
the  good  physician  again  upon  the  mission  of  mercy. 
They  had  requested  the  attendance  of  an  undertaker, 
and  assumed  the  whole  charge  of  the  funeral  of 
Jenny,  which  was  to  take  place  on  the  third  day 
after  her  death. 

Fanny  had  hardly  thought  of  herself  since  the 
angel  of  death  entered  the  house,  though  she  had 
been  weighed  down  by  a  burden  of  guilt  that  did 
not  embody  itself  in  particular  thoughts.  In  her 
sincere  penitence,  and  in  her  firm  and  sacred  resolve 
to  be  good  and  true,  she  had  found  only  a  partial 
peace  of  mind.  She  had  not  a  doubt  in  regard  to 
her  future  course :  she  must  return  to  Woodvillc, 
and  submit  to  any  punishment  which  her  kind  friends 
might  impose  upon  her.  She  was  willing  to  suffer 
for  what  she  had  done ;  she  was  even  willing  to  be 
sent  to  her  uncle's  in  Minnesota ;  and  this  feeling 
of  submission  was  the  best  evidence  to  herself  of 
the  reality  of  her  repentance. 

She   was    not  willing   to  return   to   Woodville   till 


FAXXY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         139 

she  had  seen  the  mortal  part  of  Jenny  laid  away 
in  its  final  resting-place.  But  Mr.  Grant,  who  was 
at  Hudson  with  his  daughters,  might  already  have 
been  informed  of  her  wicked  conduct ;  and  Mr. 
Long  was  probably  still  engaged  in  the  search  for 
her.  There  was  a  duty  she  owed  to  her  friends 
which  her  awakened  conscience  would  not  permit 
her  to  neglect.  The  family  would  be  very  anxious 
about  her,  for  wayward  and  wilful  as  she  had  been, 
she  felt  that  they  still  loved  her.  Procuring  pen 
and  paper,  she  wrote  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Green,  inform 
ing  her  that  she  should  return  home  on  Friday ;  that 
she  would  submit  to  any  punishment,  and  endeavor 
to  be  good  in  the  future.  She  sealed  the  note, 
and  put  it  in  the  post-office,  with  a  feeling  that  it 
was  all  she  could  do  at  present  as  an  atonement 
for  her  faults.  If  it  was  not  all  she  could  do,  it 
was  an  error  of  judgment,  not  of  the  heart. 

On  Thursday  the  form  of  Jenny  was  placed  in 
the  coffin.  It  was  not  a  pauper's  coffin;  it  Avas  a 
black-walnut  casket  —  plain,  but  rich  —  selected  by 
Mrs.  Porter,  the  physician's  lady,  who  could  not 
permit  the  form  of  one  so  beautiful  to  be  enclosed 


140  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OK 

in  a  less  appropriate  receptacle.  The  choicest 
flowers  lay  upon  her  breast,  and  a  beautiful  wreath 
and  cross  were  placed  upon  the  casket  before  the 
funeral  services  commenced. 

The  clergyman  was  a  friend  of  Dr.  Porter,  and 
he  was  worthy  to  be  the  friend  of  so  true  a  man. 
The  service  was  solemn  and  touching ;  no  word  of 
hope  and  consolation  was  omitted  because  they  stood 
in  the  humble  abode  of  poverty  and  want.  He 
spoke  of  the  beautiful  life  and  the  happy  death  of 
Jenny,  and  prayed  that  her  parents  might  be  com 
forted  ;  that  the  little  brother  might  be  blessed  1-y 
her  short  life,  and  that  "  the  devoted  young  friend, 
who  had  so  tenderly  watched  over  the  last  hours 
of  the  departed,"  might  be  sanctified  by  her  holy 
ministrations.  The  father,  living  or  dead,  wherever 
suffering,  or  wherever  battling  against  the  foes  of  his 
country,  was  remembered. 

Fanny  wept,  as  all  in  the  house  wept,  when  the 
good  man  feelingly  delineated  the  lovely  character 
of  her  who.  was  still  so  beautiful  in  her  marble 
silence ;  when  he  recalled  those  tender  scenes  on 
the  evening  of  her  death,  which  had  been  faithfully 


1'ANNY     CHANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         141 

described  to  him  by  Fanny.  The  casket  was  placed 
in  the  funeral  car,  and  followed  by  two  carriages,  — 
one  of  which  contained  Mrs.  Kent,  Eddy,  and  Fanny, 
and  the  other  the  family  of  Dr.  Porter,  —  to  Green 
wood  Cemetery.  Sadly  the  poor  mother  turned  away 
from  the  resting-place  of  her  earthly  treasure,  and  the 
little  cortege  returned  to  the  house  from  which  the 
light  had  gone  out.  The  last  solemn,  sacred  duty 
had  been  performed ;  Jenny  had  gone,  but  her  pure 
influence  was  still  to  live  on,  and  bless  those  who 
had  never  even  known  her. 

When  the  little  party  reached  the  house,  Dr. 
Porter,  after  some  remarks  about  the  solemn  scenes 
through  which  they  had  just  passe'd,  inquired  more 
particularly  than  he  had  been  permitted  to  do  before 
into  the  circumstances  of  the  family.  lie  promised 
to  procure  for  her  the  money  due  to  her  as  a  soldier's 
wife,  and  to  obtain  some  light  employment  for  her. 
Mrs.  Kent  was  very  grateful  to  him  for  his  kind  in 
terest  in  herself,  and  in  her  lost  one,  assuring  him 
that  she  did  not  ask  for  charity,  and  was  willing  to 
work  hard  for  a  support. 

"  You   have   been  a  blessing  to  me,  Fanny,''  said 


142  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

Mrs.  Kent,  when  the  physician  and  his  family  had 
departed.  "  I  am  sure  that  God  sent  you  here  to 
save  me  from  misery  and  despair.  What  should  1 
have  done  if  you  had  not  come  ? " 

"  I  think  I  Avas  sent  for  my  own  sake,  rather 
than  for  yours,  for  I  know  that  it  has  been  a 
greater  blessing  to  me  than  to  you,"  replied  Fanny. 

"That  can't  be." 

"  It  is  so.  When  I  told  Jenny  that  I  had  been 
a  very  wicked  girl,  I  meant  so." 

"I'm  sure  that  one  who  has  been  so  kind  can't 
be  very  bad,"  added  Mrs.  Kent,  rather  bewildered 
by  the  confession  of  her  benefactor.  "Where  did 
you  say  you  lived,  Fanny  ?  " 

The  wanderer  had  been  obliged  to  invent  a  story 
in  the  beginning  to  account  for  her  absence  from 
home,  and  the  poor  woman's  heart  had  been  too 
full  of  gratitude  to  permit  any  doubt  to  enter 
there. 

"  I  have  deceived  you,  Mrs.  Kent,"  replied  Fanny, 
bursting  into  tears.  "  I  do  not  live  in  the  city ;  my 
home  is  twenty-five  miles  up  the  river.  But  I  did 
not  mean  to  deceive  poor  Jenny.  I  wanted  to  tell 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         143 

her  what  a  wicked  deed  I  had  done,  but  she 
would  not  let  me." 

"  She  was  too  good  to  think  evil  of  any  one, 
and  especially  of  you,  who  have  been  so  generous 
to  us." 

"  You  know  the  paper  she  wrote  and  gave  to  me  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  know  from  that  she  believed  I  had  done 
something  very  bad." 

"  Perhaps  she  did." 

"  She  told  me  how  to  be  good.  The  very  sight 
of  her  made  me  feel  how  wicked  I  was.  I  mean 
to  be  good." 

"  Then  I  am  sure  you  will  be." 

"  I  shall  always  think  of  Jenny,  and  the  anchor 
she  gave  me,  when  I  am  tempted  to  do  wrong. 
I  feel  that  Jenny  has  saved  me,  and  made  me  a 
new  being." 

"  I'm  sure  I  hope  so  ;  and  I  am  glad  you  came 
here  for  your  own  sake,  as  well  as  for  mine.  But 
I  can't  believe  that  one  who  has  been  good  to  my 
dear  lost  one  can  be  very  bad,"  replied  Mrs.  Kent, 
gloomily. 


144  HOPr,     AND     HAVE,     OR 

k-Iam —  at  least,  I  was;  for  I  know  I  am  ever 
so  much  better  than  I  was  when  I  came  here.  I 
ran  away  from  home  !  " 

"  Ran  away ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Kent,  appalled  at 
the  words. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  did  even  worse  than  that." 

"  Dear  me  !  I  hope  not.  I  thought  it  was  strange 
.hat  a  young  lady  like  you  should  have  so  much 
money ;  but  my  heart  was  so  full  that  I  didn't 
think  much  about  it.'' 

"  Mrs.  Kent,  I  stole  that  money ! "  added  Fanny, 
her  face  crimson  with  the  blush  of  shame. 

"Mercy  on  me!     I  can't  believe  it." 

"  It  is  true." 

'•  It  was  wrong  of  me  to  take  the  mcney,"  added 
Mrs.  Kent,  actually  trembling  with  apprcl.ension 
at  the  thought.  "  I  will  pay  it  all  back  some  time, 
Fanny.  I  can  work  now.  I'm  sure  I  wouldn't 
have  taken  the  money  if  I  had  thought  you  cUd 
not  come  rightly  by  it." 

Fanny  then  told  the  whole  story,  and  described 
her  feelings  from  the  time  she  had  first  seen  Mrs. 
Kent  in  front  of  the  house. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         145 

"  I  am  so  sorry  !  "  said  the  poor  woman,  wringing 
her  hands  as  she  thought  of  her  own  participation 
in  the  use  of  the  stolen  property.  "  I  would  rather 
have  been  turned  out  of  the  house  than  be  saved 
by  such  money." 

"  Don't  cry,  Mrs.  Kent.  I  am  almost  sorry  I  told 
you  anything  about  it." 

"  I'm  glad  poor  Jenny  didn't  know  it." 

"  So  am  I  ;  but  I  am  sure  she  knew  how  guilty 
I  had  been,  though  she  didn't  know  exactly  what  I 
had  done." 

"  I  think  there  is  hope  for  you,  Fanny.  You 
must  have  a  kind  heart,  or  you  couldn't  have  done 
what  you  did  for  Jenny.  I'm  sure  I  feel  very 
grateful  to  you." 

"  Now  you  know  me  as  I  am,  Mrs.  Kent ;  but 
I  tell  you  most  solemnly,  that  I  mean  to  be  good 
always  after  this.  I  am  sorry  for  my  wicked  deeds, 
and  I  am  willing  to  b3  punished  for  what  I  have 
done.  I  shall  always  bless  poor  Jenny  for  saving 
me  from  error  and  sin  —  if  I  am  saved." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,   Fanny?" 

"  I  am  going  back  to  Woodville  to-morrow  morn- 
13 


146  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

ing.  I  will  give  up  all  the  money  I  have,  confess 
my  fault,  and  let  them  do  with  me  as  they  think 
best." 

"  You  can  tell  them  I  will  pay  back  all  the  money 
you  spent  for  me,  just  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  Mr.  Grant  is  very  rich,  and  he  will  not  ask 
you  to  do  that.  He  is  very  kind,  too." 

"  But  I  must  do  it,  and  I  shall  have  no  peace 
till  it  is  done,"  protested  the  poor  woman.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  give  you  a  note 
for  the  money." 

Mrs.  Kent  was  in  earnest.  She  was  sorely  troubled 
by  the  fact  that  she  had  even  innocently  received 
any  of  the  stolen  money.  In  the  evening  she  wrote 
the  note,  which  was  made  payable  to  Mr.  Grant,  and 
insisted  that  Fanny  should  take  it.  They  talked  of 
nothing  but  the  guilt  of  the  runaway,  though  rather 
of  the  means  of  making  reparation  for  the  wrong, 
than  of  the  consequences  of  the  wrong  acts.  Mrs. 
Kent  was  fully  convinced  that  Fanny  was  sincerely 
penitent ;  that  her  intercourse  with  Jenny  had  ushered 
her  into  a  new  life.  She  Avas  even  willing  to  believe, 
before  they  retired  that  night,  that  it  was  all  for  the 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         147 

best ;  that  He  who  brings  good  out  of  evil,  would 
bring  a  blessing  out  of  the  wrong  which  Fanny  had 
done. 

The  next  morning  the  wanderer  bade  farewell  to 
Mrs.  Kent,  and  took  the  train  for  Woodville. 


148  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 


CHAPTER     XI. 

PENITEXCE     AND     PARDON. 

FANNY  arrived  at  the  station  near  Woodville  by 
the  early  train  from  the  city.  On  the  way,  she 
had  been  thinking  of  her  own  guilt,  and  consider 
ing  what  she  should  do  and  say  when  she  stood 
in  the  presence  of  her  injured  friends.  She  was 
not  studying  how  to  conceal  or  palliate  her  offence, 
but  how  she  could  best  tell  the  whole  truth.  She 
gave  herself  no  credit  for  any  good  deed  she  had 
done  during  her  absence ;  she  did  not  natter  her 
self  that  she  had  been  benevolent  and  kind  in 
using  the  stolen  money  as  she  had  used  it ;  she 
did  not  believe  that  her  tender  vigil  at  the  bed 
side  of  the  dying  girl  made  her  less  guilty. 

She  felt  that  she  deserved  a  severe  punishment, 
and  that  it  would  do  her  good  to  suffer  for  what 
she  had  done.  She  was  even  willing  to  be  sent 


FANXY     GRAXT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         149 

to  prison,  to  be  disgraced,  and  banished  from  the 
happy  home  at  Woodville,  whose  hospitality  she 
had  abused.  She  felt  that  the  penalty  of  her  er 
rors,  whatever  it  might  be,  would  do  her  good. 
She  was  filled  with  contrition  and  shame  as  she 
left  the  station ;  she  hung  her  head,  and  did  not 
dare  to  look  the  people  she  met  in  the  face.  The 
Fanny  who  went  from  Woodville  a  few  days  be 
fore  had  returned  an  entirely  different  being. 

Slowly  and  gloomily  she  walked  down  the  road 
that  led  to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Grant.  It  seemed 
as  though  she  had  been  absent  a  year,  and  every 
thing  looked  strange  to  her,  though  the  change 
was  all  in  herself.  All  the  currents  of  her  former 
life  had  ceased  to  flow ;  the  movements  of  the 
wheel  of  events  had  been  abruptly  suspended. 
What  gladdened  her  before  did  not  gladden  her 
now,  and  what  had  once  been  a  joy  was  now  a 
sorrow.  She  felt  as  though  she  had  been  trans 
ferred  from  the  old  world,  in  which  she  had  re 
joiced  in  mischief  and  wrong,  to  a  new  world, 
whose  hopes  and  joys  had  not  yet  been  revealed 
to  her. 

13* 


150  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

She  approached  the  cottage  of  Mr.  Long,  the 
constable,  who  had  probably  been  engaged  in  the 
search  for  her  since  her  departure.  She  went  up 
to  the  door  and  knocked.  Mr.  Long  had  just  fin 
ished  his  breakfast,  and  she  was  shown  into  the 
little  parlor. 

"So  you  have  got  back,  Fanny  Grant,"  said  he, 
very  coldly  and  sternly,  as  he  entered  the  room 
where  she  stood  waiting  for  him. 

"  I  have,"  she  replied,  just  raising  her  eyes 
from  the  floor. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 

"  In  New  York  city." 

"  Where  did  you  stay  ?  " 

"  At  the  house  of  a  poor  woman  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  city." 

"  I  thought  so ;  or  I  should  have  found  you. 
You  have  been  a  very  bad  girl,  Fanny." 

"  I  know  it,  sir.  You  may  send  me  to  prison 
now,  for  I  deserve  the  worst  you  can  do  to  me," 
replied  Fanny,  choking  with  her  emotions. 

"  You  ought  to  be  sent  there.  What  did  you 
come  here  for  ? " 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    151 

"  I  stole  the  money,  and  I  suppose  you  were 
sent  to  catch  me.  I  am  willing  to  be  sent  to 
prison." 

"  You  are  very  obliging,"  sneered  the  constable. 
"  We  don't  generally  ask  people  whether  they  are 
willing  or  not  when  we  send  them  to  prison." 

"  I  give  myself  up  to  you ;  and  you  can  do  with 
me  what  you  think  best." 

"  I  know  I  can." 

"You  didn't  catch  me.  I  come  here  of  myself; 
that  is  what  I  meant  by  saying  that  I  was  willing 
to  be  sent  to  prison." 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  money  you 
stole  ? "  asked  the  constable,  who  was  very  much 
astonished  at  the  singular  conduct  of  Fanny. 

"  I  have  spent  most  of  it." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Mr.  Long,  who  deemed 
it  his  duty  to  be  stern  and  unsympathizing. 
"  How  did  you  spend  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  Mr.  Grant  all  about  it,"  answered 
Fanny,  who  did  not  care  to  repeat  her  story  to 
such  a  person  as  the  constable ;  and  she  felt  that 
he  would  be  fully  justified  in  disbelieving  her 
statements. 


152  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  Perhaps  you  will  tell  me,  if  I  wish  you  to  do 
so." 

u  I  will,  but  I  would  rather  tell  Mr.  Grant  first, 
for  it  is  a  long  story,  and  you  will  think  it  is  a 
very  strange  one." 

"  Xo  doubt  it  is,"  said  the  constable,  perplexed 
by  the  replies  of  the  culprit,  and  doubtful  what 
course  he  should  pursue. 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Grant  has  not  got  home  yet," 
added  Fanny.  "  You  can  put  me  in  prison  till  he 
gets  back ;  or  I  will  solemnly  promise  you  I  will 
not  run  away." 

"  Your  promises  are  not  worth  much.  Mr.  Grant 
has  got  home.  He  came  home  just  as  soon  as  he 
heard  that  you  had  gone  off.  You  have  given  him 
a  heap  cf  trouble,  and  you  must  settle  the  case 
with  him.  I  will  take  you  over  to  the  house,  and 
I  promise  you  I  won't  lose  sight  of  you  again." 

"  I  will  not  attempt  to  get  away,"  replied  Fanny, 
meekly. 

"  I  won't  trust  you,"  said  Mr.  Long,  putting  on 
his  hat. 

"I  don't  ask  you  to  trust  me." 


FANNY     GUAXT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         153 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  added,  taking  her  by  the  arm. 

"  You  need  not  hold  me ;  I  will  not  run  away," 
said  Fanny,  as  she  left  the  house  with  the  con 
stable,  who  seemed  determined  to  hold  on  to  her 
as  though  she  were  some  desperate  ruffian,  instead 
of  a  weak  and  self-convicted  girl. 

"  You  won't  get  away  from  me,  you  may  depend 
upon  it,"  continued  Mr.  Long,  as  they  walked 
towards  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Grant. 

The  constable  seemed  to  be  actuated  by  the 
vanity  to  make  people  believe  that  he  had  made 
a  capture,  and  he  did  not  release  his  grasp  upon 
his  prisoner  till  they  reached  their  destination. 
They  met  several  people,  who  stopped  and  stared 
at  them,  and  evidently  thought  the  constable  had 
done  a  great  thing.  Mr.  Long  rang  the  bell  at 
the  front  door.  The  man-servant,  who  admitted 
them,  started  with  astonishment  when  he  saw 
Fanny,  They  were  shown  to  the  library,  and 
informed  that  Mr.  Grant  Avas  at  breakfast. 

"  You  can  sit  down  in  that  chair,"  said  the 
constable,  pointing  to  a  scat.  "  If  you  attempt 
to  get  away,  I  shall  put  the  handcuffs  on  you." 


154  HOPE     AXD     TIAVE,     OR 

"  I  don't  want  to  get  away.  I  came  back  of  my 
own  accord,"  replied  Fanny,  astonished  rather  than 
indignant  at  the  absurd  behavior  of  the  constable. 

"  You  are  bad  enough  to  do  almost  anything." 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  so  bad  as  I  was." 

"  Perhaps  you  do  hope  so ;  but  we  shall  see." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  Kate  Magncr  is  now  ?  " 
asked  Fanny,  as  Mr.  Long  relapsed  into  silence 
and  pompous  dignity. 

"  She  is  at  home,  I  suppose.  She  wasn't  quite 
bad  enough  for  you,  it  seems." 

"  I  hope  she  was  not  punished  for  what  she  did, 
for  it  was  all  my  fault." 

"  That's  a  fact.  You  have  told  the  truth  for 
once." 

"  I  mean  always  to  tell  the  truth  now,  Mr- 
Jl/ong,"  said  Fanny. 

"  "When  you  have  done  it  a  while,  perhaps  we 
can  believe  you.  The  Magner  girl  told  the  whole 
story,  and  delivered  up  the  money  you  gave  her ; 
that  saved  her." 

"  I  am  glad  she  was  not  punished." 

"  She  was  punished." 


FANNY    GRANT    AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        155 

"  Then  I  am  sorry,  for  it  was  I  who  led  her 
away." 

"  We  all  know  that.  Now,  be  still ;  Mr.  Grant 
is  coming,"  said  the  constable. 

Mr.  Grant  entered  the  library,  and  walked  to 
wards  the  chair  where  Fanny  sat,  taking  no  notice 
of  the  constable.  He  paused  before  her,  looking 
very  sad,  but  very  stern.  Fanny's  bosom  was 
bounding  with  emotion.  She  trembled ;  her  heart 
was  rising  up  jnto  her  throat,  and  choking  her. 
She  raised  her  eyes  from  the  floor  and  glanced  at 
him,  —  only  one  glance  at  that  sad,  stern  face,  — 
and  then  burst  into  tears.  She  did  not  mean  to 
weep ;  did  not  mean  to  do  anything  which  could 
appeal  to  the  sympathy  of  her  kind  friend  and 
benefactor,  but  she  could  not  help  it. 

"  I  have  brought  her  up  to  you,  Mr.  Grant," 
said  the  constable. 

"Where  did  you  find  her?" 

Mr.  Long  would  have  preferred  to  let  Mr. 
Grant  believe  that  he  had  caught  her  himself;  but 
the  question  was  so  direct  that  he  could  only  give 
a  direct  answer. 


156  IIOPK     AXD     H.VVE,     OR 

"  She  came  to  my  house  this  morning." 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Long ;  I  will  not  trouble  you 
to  remain  any  longer,"  added  Mr.  Grant. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  let  her  get  away  from  you, 
sir,"  said  the  constable,  who  thought  his  official 
position  was  slighted  by  this  intimation ;  and  he 
was  curious  to  hear  what  the  culprit  had  to  say 
for  herself. 

"  I  will  not  try  to  get  away,  Mr.  Grant,"  inter 
posed  Fanny.  . 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  her  getting  away,  even  if 
she  is  disposed  to  do  so." 

Mr.  Long  found  himself  obliged  to  leave,  his 
office  ignored,  and  his  curiosity  ungratified. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Fanny  Jane  ? "  asked 
Mr.  Grant,  when  the  constable  had  gone,  his  tones 
being  the  counterpart  of  his  stern,  sad  face. 

"  In  New  York,"  replied  Fanny,  still  sobbing. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  money  you  took 
from  the  drawer  in  the  closet  ? " 

"  I  spent  most  of  it." 

"  For  what  did  you  spend  it  ? " 

'•  I  have  come  back    to  tell  the  whole  truth,  Mr. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         157 

Grant.  I  have  been .  very  wicked  and  ungrateful 
to  you.  I  am  very  sorry  for  what  I  have  done  ; 
I  don't  ask  you  to  forgive  me,  for  I  know  you 
can't.  I  am  willing  to  be  punished  as  you  think 
best,  for  I  deserve  the  worst  you  can  do  to  me." 

Mr.  Grant  was  a  tender-hearted  man.  Perhaps 
his  own  children  had  suffered  from  the  gentleness 
of  his  nature;  if  they  had, .the  injury  had  been 
more  than  compensated  for  in  the  blessings  im 
parted  by  his  tenderness.  He  was  more  than 
astonished  at  the  attitude  of  the  returned  wanderer. 
Fanny  had  never  before  been  known  to  be  in  such 
a  frame  of  mind.  The  sternness  of  his  expression 
passed  away ;  there  was  nothing  but  the  sadness 
left.  Probably  he  doubted  the  sincerity  of  the  cul 
prit's  contrition  ;  at  least  he  did  not  realize  the 

| 

depth  and  earnestness  of  it. 

"  I  will  hear  whatever  you  wish  to  say,"  replied 
he,  seating  himself  in  his  easy  chair. 

"  I  have  been  so  wicked  that  I  know  you  will 
find  it  hard  to  believe  me ;  but  I  mean  to  tell  the 
whole  truth,"  sobbed  Fanny. 

"  I  hope  you  do.  You  may  wait  till  you  are 
14 


158  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

better  able  to  speak.  The  letter  you  sent  to  Mrs. 
Green  informed  us  where  you  were,  but  we  were 
unable  to  find  you." 

"  I  came  home  as  soon  as  I  could ;  and  I  did 
not  wish  you  to  find  me  till  I  had  done  what  I 
had  to  do,"  answered  Fanny,  drying  her  tears. 

She  then  commenced  the  narrative  of  her  adven 
tures  from  the  time  she  had  parted  with  Miss 
Fanny.  She  told  ho\v  she  had  let  the  cat  out  of 
the  drawer,  and  how  she  had  found  where  the 
money  was  actually  concealed ;  she  related  very 
minutely  every  incident  that  had  occurred  up  to 
the  time  she  had  seen  Mr.  O'Shane  and  Mrs. 
Kent  in  front  of  the  house  in  New  York.  At  this 
point  Mr.  Grant  became  intensely  interested  in  the 
story,  and  when  Fanny  said  that  she  had  paid  the 
poor  woman's  rent  with  one  hundred  dollars  of  the 
stolen  money,  a  slight  smile  gathered  upon  his  sad 
face. 

Then  she  related  the  particulars  of  her  interview 
with  the  sick  girl,  mentioning  even  the  hymns  she 
had  sung  to  her.  She  described  as  well  as  she 
could  the  impression  made  upon  her  by  the  beau- 


FANNY  GKANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    159 

tiful  and  patient  sufferer ;  the  sense  of  her  own 
guilt  and  wickedness,  which  had  then  and  there 
dawned  upon  her ;  and  the  oppressive  burden  she 
had  borne  in  her  soul  when  she  went  down  into 
the  city,  which  did  not  permit  her  to  enjoy  the 
pleasures  of  the  great  metropolis  for  which  she  had 
stolen  the  money,  and  run  away  from  her  home. 
Fanny  was  eloquent,  but  the  simple  truth  was  her 
only  inspiration. 

Mr.  Grant  evidently  understood  the  frame  of 
mind  which  she  described,  and  when  she  came  to 
her  final  interview  with  the  dying  girl,  he  could 
hardly  repress  a  tear  in  his  own  eyes.  Fanny 
omitted  nothing,  but  told  every  incident,  and 
repeated  all  she  could  remember  of  the  conversa 
tion  of  poor  Jenny,  —  and  hardly  a  word  of  it  was 
forgotten,  —  confirming  her  statement  by  exhibit 
ing  the  anchor  on  her  bosom,  and  the  paper  given 
her  by  the  dying  saint. 

Mr.  Grant  read  the  paper,  and  the  tears  came 
to  his  eyes  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  suppress  them. 

"  For  her  sake,  Fanny,  I  forgive  you,"  said  he. 

"I  do  not  deserve  to  be  forgiven,  sir,"  sobbed 
Fanny. 


160  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  I  could  not  resist  such  an  appeal  as  this," 
answered  Mr.  Grant,  glancing  at  the  paper  again. 

"  I  would  have  come  home  then,  when  poor 
Jenny  Avas  gone,  but  I  thought  I  ought  to  stay 
and  do  what  I  could  for  the  poor  woman ; "  and 
Fanny  continued  her  narrative,  describing  every 
thing  that  took  place  at  Mrs.  Kent's  till  her 
departure,  including  her  visit  to  Dr.  Porter's,  the 
funeral,  and  her  confession  to  the  bereaved  mother. 

"  Mrs.  Kent  felt  very  bad  when  I  told  her  that 
I  had  stolen  the  money  ;  and  she  promised  to  pay 
you  all  I  had  spent  for  her.  She  gave  me  this 
note  for  you,"  continued  Fanny,  handing  him  the 
paper. 

Mr.  Grant  glanced  at  it,  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"  Fanny,  if  your  penitence  is  sincere,  as  I  hope 
and  believe  it  is,  I  shall  be  thankful  that  this 
event  has  happened,''  said  he.  "  I  should  have 
been  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  do  what  you  have 
done  with  my  money.  It  would  have  been  wrong  , 
for  you  to  steal  it,  even  to  relieve  the  distress  of 
so  needy  and  deserving  a  person  as  the  soldier's 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         161 

wife  ;  but  you  have  put  it  to  a  good  use.  It  is 
impossible  for  me  to  doubt  your  story,  but  I  wish 
to  confirm  it.  When  you  have  had  your  breakfast, 
you  may  go  to  the  city  with  me,  and  we  will  visit 
Mrs.  Kent." 

"  I  have  told  the  whole  truth,  Mr.  Grant ;  and 
I  am  willing  to  do  anything  you  say.  I  did  not 
ask  or  expect  to  be  forgiven." 

"  I  could  have  forgiven  you,  even  without  the 
request  of  the  dying  girl." 

"  I  do  not  deserve  it.  I  expected  to  be  sent  to 
prison,"  sobbed  the  penitent. 

"  I  never  thought  of  sending  you  to  prison,  or 
to  any  such  place.  I  say  I  forgive  you,  but  I 
shall  be  compelled  to  send  you  to  your  uncle's  in 
Minnesota." 

"  I  am  willing  to  go,"  replied  Fanny,  who,  a 
week  before,  would  have  deemed  this  a  greater 
hardship  than  being  sent  to  prison. 

Fanny  went  to  her  breakfast.  Mrs.  Green  and 
the  servants  were  surprised,  not  to  say  disgusted, 
to  see  Mr.  Grant  treat  her  with  so  much  tender 
ness. 

14* 


HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 


CHAPTER     XII. 


THE     NEW     HOME. 


Fanny  had  finished  her  breakfast,  she  put 
on  her  best  clothes,  and  started  for  Xew  York  with 
Mr.  Grant,  who,  perhaps,  was  more  desirous  of 
assisting  the  mother  of  Jenny  than  of  confirming 
the  story  to  which  he  had  just  listened  with  so 
much  interest  and  sympathy.  We  need  not  say 
that  the  narrative  of  the  returned  wanderer  was 
found  to  be  true  in  every  respect,  or  that  Mr.  Grant 
destroyed  the  poor  woman's  note  of  hand,  by  which 
she  promised  to  pay  the  sums  Fanny  had  expended 
in  her  behalf. 

Mrs.  Kent,  while  she  condemned  and  regretted 
the  misdeeds  of  Fanny,  was  enthusiastic  in  the 
praise  she  bestowed  upon  her  kindness  to  the  dying 
girl,  and  of  her  tenderness  and  devotion  in  those 
last  trying  Wirs.  Mr.  Grant  could  not  doubt  that 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         163 

a  great  change  had  come  over  Fanny ;  that  she 
earnestly  intended  to  lead  a  true  and  good  life. 
Whether  she  would  persevere,  and  in  any  degree 
realize  her  present  high  aspirations,  remained  yet 
to  be  demonstrated ;  but  he  was  hopeful.  The 
solemn  and  impressive  scene  through  which  she 
had  passed  had  left  deep  impressions  upon  her 
mind  and  heart,  which  he  hoped  would  prove  as 
lasting  as  they  were  strong. 

Mr.  Grant  called  with  Fanny  to  see  Dr.  Porter ; 
ami  the  benevolent  physician  gladdened  his  heart 
by  the  warm  commendations  he  lavished  upon 
Fanny ;  and,  without  knowing  of  her  misdeeds,  he 
declared  she  was  a  treasure  in  whom  her  friends 
ought  continually  to  rejoice.  It  was  not  necessary 
that  he  should  know  what  evil  she  had  done,  for 
he  might  never  see  her  again,  and  Mr.  Grant's 
business  with  him  related  solely  to  the  future  com 
fort  of  the  soldier's  family.  The  doctor  had  done 
everything  that  could  be  done  for  Mrs.  Kent,  and  his 
family  were  so  deeply  interested  in  the  poor  woman 
that  she  was  not  likely  to  suffer  in  the  future. 
Mr.  Grant  promised  to  see  him  again,  and  cooperate 


164  HOPE     A>'1)     HAVE,     OR 

with  him  in  doing  what  might  be  needed  for 
her  comfort  and  happiness. 

Mr.  Grant  and  Fanny  returned  to  Woodville  hy 
the  noon  train.  The  penitent  girl  felt  that  she 
had  heen  forgiven,  and  the  kindness  of  her  friend 
made  her  all  the  more  determined  to  he  faithful 
to  the  resolutions  she  had  made.  She  had  not 
hoped  to  escape  the  punishment  she  merited,  and 
had  not  been  prepared  for  the  tender  words  which 
had  been  addressed  to  her  when  it  was  evident  that 
her  penitence  was  real. 

"  Fanny,"  said  Mr.  Grant,  as  they  entered  the 
library,  on  her  return,  "  I  shall,  as  I  said  before, 
be  obliged  to  send  you  to  your  uncle  in  Minne 
sota." 

"  I  am  walling  to  go,  sir,"  replied  she,  humbly. 

"  I  understand  you  have  frequently  declared  that 
you  would  not  go." 

"  I  have,  but  I  am  sorry  I  said  anything  of  the 
kind." 

"  But  I  do  not  intend  to  send  you  there  as  a 
punishment  for  what  you  have  done.  I  freely  for 
give  you." 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     TIIK     INDIANS.         165 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  me,  Mr.  Grant,  and  I  will 
do  anything  you  wish  without  complaining." 

-'  I  am  glad  to  see  so  excellent  a  spirit  in  you, 
which  makes  me  sorry  to  send  you  away  at  this 
time.  If  your  conduct  had  warranted  it  before,  I 
might  have  made  different  arrangements ;  but  it  is 
too  late  now.  I  have  written  to  your  uncle,  inform 
ing  him  that  you  would  be  with  him  next  week. 
I  promised  him  and  your  aunt,  when  I  brought 
you  here,  that  you  should  be  returned  to  them  in 
two  years ;  and  that  time  has  now  expired.  We 
shall  be  absent  in  Europe  about  six  months ;  when 
we  return,  if  your  uncle  is  willing,  I  should  be  very 
glad  to  have  you  come  back  to  Woodville.  I  hope 
you  will  like  your  aunt  better  than  you  used  to  like 
her." 

"I  shall,  sir." 

Mr.  Grant  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  indulge 
in  any  long  lectures.  He  had  forgiven  Fanny,  and 
he  hoped  her  future  conduct  would  justify  his 
clemency.  Mrs.  Green  and  the  servants  saw  that 
she  was  a  different  being.  She  was  no  longer  rough, 
disobedient,  and  impertinent,  for  she  entered  at  once 


166  KOPK     AND     IIAVI,,     OR 

upon  her  effort  to  be  kind  and  obliging  to  all  in 
the  house.  In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Grant  went  up  to 
Hudson,  where  he  had  left  Bertha  and  Fanny.  When 
he  had  gone,  the  reformed  girl  paid  a  visit  to  Ben 
the  boatman,  still  confined  to  his  bed  with  the  rheu 
matism.  She  surprised  him  by  offering  to  read  to 
him  from  the  Bible  —  an  offer  which  he  gladly  ac 
cepted. 

The  next  day  she  went  to  school,  carrying  a  note 
to  the  teacher,  which  Mr.  Grant  hud  written  for  her. 
She  expected  to  be  reproached  and  reproved  here, 
but  the  teacher  did  not  allude  to  her  past  conduct, 
prompted  in  this  course  by  the  note ;  her  companions 
were  astonished  and  awed  by  her  quiet  dignity,  and 
even  Kate  Magner  said  less  than  might  have  been 
expected.  Fanny  told  her  what  had  happened  after 
the  separation  at  Pennville,  and  solemnly  assured 
her  that  she  intended  always  to  be  a  good  girl  in 
the  future. 

Fanny  spent  Saturday  afternoon  with  Ben,  seated 
by  his  bedside  till  dark,  reading  and  singing  to  him, 
giving  him  his  medicine,  and  supplying  all  his  wants. 
She  told  him  the  story  of  her  wanderings  in  IS'ew 


FANNY   GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    167 

York,  of  the  death  and  the  funeral  of  Jenny,  all  of 
which  the  kindness  and  tenderness  of  Fanny  to 
himself  made  real.  He  commended  her  good  reso 
lutions,  and  hoped  that,  in  her  new  home  in  the 
West,  she  would  be  able  to  carry  them  out. 

On  Monday  the  family  returned  from  Hudson, 
and  Fanny  repeated  her  story  to  Bertha  and  her 
sister.  They  were  moved  to  tears  by  her  narrative. 
It  had  seemed  to  them  that  nothing  short  of  a 
miracle  could  reform  the  wayward  girl ;  but  the 
miracle  had  been  wrought,  as  was  fully  proved 
during  the  remainder  of  Fanny's  stay  at  "Woodville. 
It  did  not  seem  possible  that  the  gentle  and  obli 
ging  girl,  who  was  a  blessing  to  all  in  the  house,  had 
ever  been  the  grief  and  the  sorrow  of  her  friends, 
a  thorn  and  a  torment  to  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  her. 

When  the  time  for  Fanny  to  leave  for  Minnesota 
arrived,  it  was  hard  for  the  family  to  part  with  her. 
Miss  Fanny  begged  that  the  arrangements  might  be 
altered ;  that  she  might  be  permitted  to  remain  at 
Woodville,  or  even  to  go  to  Europe  with  them ;  but 
her  father  thought  \t  best  that  the  original  plan 


168  HOTE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

should  be  carried  out ;  he  believed  that  it  would 
be  better  for  Fanny  herself.  There  were  many  tears 
shed  when  they  parted.  Miss  Fanny  was  sorry  to 
lose  her  protegee  just  as  her  teachings,  quicker.!. d 
into  life  by  her  visit  to  the  city,  were  beginning 
to  bear  their  fruits. 

Mr.  Grant  had  decided  to  attend  the  young  travel 
ler  to  her  new  home,  for  he  was  unwilling  to  trust 
her  to  the  care  of  any  chance  friend  who  might 
undertake  the  charge  of  her,  fearful  lest  the  good 
impressions  which  were  beginning  to  take  root  in 
her  soul  might  be  weakened  during  the  long  journey. 
They  travelled  leisurely,  and  at  the  end  of  a  week 
reached  Mankato,  at  the  great  bend  of  the  Min 
nesota  River,  in  the  southern  part  of  the  state. 

John  Grant,  Fanny's  uncle,  lived  at  a  settlement 
near  the  southern  line  of  the  state,  about  seventy 
miles  from  Mankato ;  and  thither  Mr.  Grant  and 
Fanny  proceeded  in  a  wagon,  hired  for  the  purpose. 
They  were  warmly  welcomed  by  the  settlers,  who 
seldom  saw  any  one  from  the  busy  wall-is  of  civili 
zation.  Tlr.  Grant  remained  but  one  c.:y,  v 
he  used  mainly  in  informing  the  future  guardians 


FANNY      GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          1 09 

of  Fanny  in  regard  to  her  moral,  mental,  and  spirit 
ual  needs.  He  told  them  of  the  change  which  had 
come  over  her,  and  hoped  they  would  do  all  they 
ccuLl  to  foster  and  encourage  the  growth  of  her 
good  principles.  When  he  had  faithfully  discharged 
his  duty  to  his  late  charge,  he  took  an  affectionate 
leave  of  her,  and  departed  for  his  home,  returning 
to  Mankato  in  the  wagon  by  which  he  had  come. 

Fanny  now  entered  upon  her  new  life,  and  had 
an  opportunity  to  take  a  survey  of  her  future  home. 
The  settlement  consisted  of  about  fifty  persons,  most 
of  whom  had  emigrated  from  states  cast  of  the 
Mississippi.  Among  them  were  a  few  Germans, 
Swedes,  and  Norwegians.  The  country  was  a  perfect 
garden  by  nature,  and  the  rich,  deep  soil  produced 
the  most  abundant  crops.  The  settlement  was  lo 
cated  on  one  of  those  beautiful  lakes  for  which 
Minnesota  is  distinguished,  whose  bright,  clear  waters 
abound  in  fish.  The  lake  was  eight  miles  in. 
length,  with  an  average  width  of  about  three  miles. 
From  it  flowed  a  small  stream,  and  after  receiving 
other  tributaries,  discharged  its  waters  into  the 
Watonwan,  which  in  its  turn  entered  the  Minnesota. 
15 


170  HOPE      AND     HAVK,      OR 

John  Grant  was  one  of  the  most  important  per 
sons  at  the  settlement.  He  had  cleared  up  a  large 
farm  on  the  border  of  the  lake,  and,  •with  more 
means  at  the  beginning  than  most  of  his  neighbors, 
had  realixcd  a  high  degree  of  prosperity.  As  he 
had  no  children  of  his  own,  he  was  glad  to  have 
Fanny  as  a  member  of  his  family,  especially  since 
he  had  learned  of  the  improvement  in  her  conduct. 

About  one  third  of  the  population  of  the  settle 
ment  were  children,  and  a  school  had  been  estab 
lished  for  their  benefit.  The  instructor,  Mr.  Osborne, 
a  young  man,  brother  of  one  of  the  settlers,  had  lost 
his  right  .leg  and  his  left  arm  by  a  terrible  railroad 
accident.  He  was  a  graduate  of  an  Ohio  college, 
and  had  been  engaged  in  preparing  himself  for  the 
ministry  when  the  calamity  occurred  which  rendered 
him  unfit  for  the  active  duties  of  life.  From  choice 
rather  than  from  necessity,  he  remained  with  his 
brother  at  the  settlement,  being  both  teacher  and 
preacher. 

Fanny  immediately  entered  his  school,  and  de 
voted  herself  with  great  earnestness  to  her  studies. 
She  soon  became  a  favorite  of  Mr.  Osborne,  who 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    171 

had  learned  a  portion  of  her  history,  and  felt  a 
strong  interest  in  her  welfare.  She  was  a  good 
scholar,  and  her  progress  was  entirely  satisfactory 
to  her  teacher. 

In  the  home  of  her  uncle,  Fanny  found,  on  her 
arrival,  a  boy  of  her  own  age.  His  name  was 
Ethan  French ;  and  he  had  come  from  Illinois  with 
Mr.  Grant  to  work  on  the  farm.  He  had  no  parents 
living,  and  was  expected  to  remain  with  his  employer 
till  he  was  twenty-one.  He  was  an  uncouth  fellow, 
and  though  he  coidd  read,  write,  and  cipher,  he 
seemed  to  be  as  uncultivated  and  bearish  as  the  wild 
Indians  that  roamed  through  the  country.  Fanny 
tried  to  be  his  friend,  and  never  neglected  an  oppor 
tunity  to  do  him  a  kindness  ;  but  the  more  she  tried 
to  serve  him,  the  more  the  distance  between  them 
seemed  to  be  increased. 

"  I    don't   want    nothin'    to   do   with   gals,"   was   a 

favorite     maxim    with    Ethan ;    and    Fanny    found   it 

impossible   to   be   very   sociable   with  him.     He   did 

,  not  repel  or  resent  her  well-meant  advances ;  but  ha 

edged  off,  and  got  out  of  the  way  as  fast  as  he  could. 

Fanny  had  made   up   her  mind,  before   she   came 


172  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

to  her  uncle's  home,  to  be  contented  and  happy 
there ;  and  she  was  surprised  to  find  that  she  liked 
her  new  residence  very  much.  Her  aunt  was  by  no 
laeans  the  person  her  former  experience  had  taught 
her  to  believe  she  was.  Fanny  was  docile  and 
obedient,  and  Mrs.  Grant  was  no  longer  unjust 
and  tyrannical.  They  agreed  together  remarkably 
well,  and  during  the  short  period  they  were  per 
mitted  to  be  together,  no  hard  thoughts  existed, 
and  no  harsh  words  passed  between  them. 

Though  Fanny  had  not  been  accustomed  to  work 
at  Woodville,  she  readily  adapted  herself  to  her 
new  station.  There  were  no  servants  at  the  set 
tlement  ;  people  did  then*  own  work ;  and  Fanny, 
true  to  the  good  principles  she  had  chosen^  did  all 
she  could  to  assist  her  aunt. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  Fanny  had  no  tempta 
tions  ;  that  the  new  life  upon  which  she  had  entered 
was  free  from  peril  and  struggles.  She  was  tempted 
from  within  and  without ;  tempted  to  be  unjust, 
unkind,  wilful,  and  disobedient.  We  cannot  even 
say  that  she  did  not  sometimes  yield  to  those 
temptations;  but  she  prayed  for  strength  to  resist 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THK     INDIANS.          173 

them.  She  labored  to  be  true  to  her  high  purpose. 
The  anchor  which  she  always  wore  on  her  breast 
frequently  reminded  her  of  her  short-comings  —  fre 
quently  recalled  the  memories  of  the  dying  angel 
who  had  spoken  peace  to  her  troubled  soul. 

"  HOPE  AND  HAVE,"  she  often  said  to  herself; 
and  the  words  were  a  talisman  to  keep  her  in  the 
path  of  duty.  Continually  she  kept  before  her  what 
she  hoped  to  be,  and  continually  she  labored  tt» 
attain  the  high  and  beautiful  ideal  of  a  true  life.  ; 

She  was  happy  in  her  new  home,  and  her  friends 
were  happy  in  her  presence  there ;  but  not  long 
was  this  happiness  to  continue,  for  even  then  was 
gathering  in  the  distance  the  storm  which  was  to 
overwhelm  them  with  woe  and  desolation.  An  ex 
perience  of  the  most  awful  and  trying  character 
was  in  store  for  Fanny,  for  which  her  growth  in 
grace  and  goodness  was  the  best,  and  indeed  the 
only  preparation. 

By  treaty  and  purchase  the  United  States  govern 
ment  had  obtained  vast  tracts  of  the  lands  of  the 
various  sub-tribes  of  the  Sioux  and  Dakotah  Indians. 
15* 


* 

174  HOPE     AXD     HATE,     OR 

By  the  original  treaty  the  native  s  had  referred  for 
their  own  use  the  country  on  both  sides  of  the 
Minnesota  lliver,  including  a  tract  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  in  length  by  twenty  in  breadth. 
When  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  came  to 
act  upon  the  treaty,  it  was  made  a  condition  of 
the  approval  that  this  reservation  should  also  be 
ceded  to  the  whites.  The  Indians  assented  to  the 
condition,  but  no  lands  being  appropriated  for  their 
use,  as  agreed,  they  had  moved  upon  the  reserva 
tion,  and  their  right  to  it  was  recognixed. 

A  portion  of  this  reservation  was  subsequently 
acquired  by  purchase,  but  the  Indians  continued 
to  occupy  the  rest  of  it.  By  the  various  treaties, 
the  Indians  were  paid  certain  sums  of  money  every 
year,  and  supplied  with  quantities  of  goods,  such 
as  blankets,  clothing,  tools,  and  arms.  But  the 
money  was  not  paid,  nor  the  goods  delivered,  when 
due.  The  Indians  were  cheated  by  traders,  and 
the  debts  due  the  latter  were  taken  from  the 
money  to  be  paid  the  former.  The  neglect  of  the 
government,  —  fully  occupied  in  suppressing  the  re- 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         1 75 

bellion  at  the  South,  —  and  the  immense  frauds 
practised  upon  the  simple  natives,  roused  their 
indignation,  and  stirred  up  a  hatred  which  culmi 
nated  in  the  most  terrible  Indian  massacre  recorded 
in  the  annals  of  our  country. 


176  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE     INDIAN     MASSACKE. 

THOUGH  there  were  no  Indians  residing  very 
near  the  Lake  Settlement,  they  frequently  visited  the 
place,  and  the  settlers  were  on  familiar  terms  with 
them.  At  the  house  of  John  Grant  they  were 
always  treated  with  kindness  and  a  generous  hos 
pitality.  Among  those  who  sometimes  came  was 
a  chief  called  Lean  Bear.  Fanny  was  much  inter 
ested  in  these  dcni/ens  of  the  forest,  and  she 
exerted  herself  to  please  them,  and  particularly  the 
chief  of  the  Red  Irons,  as  his  tribe  was  called. 
She  sang  to  him,  brought  him  milk  and  bread, 
and  treated  him  like  a  great  man.  lie  was  a 
brawny  fellow,  mbrose  and  savage,  and  though  he 
smiled  slightly,  he  did  not  seem  to  appreciate  her 
kindness. 

About    the    15th    of   August,    when    Fanny    had 


FANNY  GKANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    177 

been  at  the  settlement  less  than  two  months,  Mr. 
Grant  started  for  one  of  the  Indian  Agencies,  on 
the  Minnesota  Iliver,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
supplies  of  the  traders  in  that  vicinity.  lie  went 
with  a  wagon  and  a.  span  of  horses,  intending  to 
be  absent  ten  days. 

One  morning,  when  he  had  been  gone  a  week, 
Mrs.  Grant  was  milking  the  cows,  of  which  they 
kept  twenty.  Ethan  was  helping  her,  and  Fanny, 
not  yet  a  proficient  in  the  art,  was  doing  what 
she  could  to  assist.  Doubtless  she  was  rather 
bungling  in  the  operation,  for  the  cow  was  not  as 
patient  as  usual. 

"  Seems  like  you  gals  from  the  east  don't  know 
much,"  laughed  Ethan.  "  You  are  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  creetur." 

"  So  I  am  !  I  thought  there  was  something 
wrong,  for  the  cow  don't  stand  quiet,"  replied 
Fanny. 

"  No  wonder ;  cows  allers  wants  things  did  ac- 
cordin'  to  rule,"  added  Ethan. 

"  I  didn't  mind    that    I   was  on  the  wrong  side." 

"  What  do  the  gals  do  out  east  that  they  don't 
know  how  to  milk  ?  " 


178  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OH 

"  They  don't  milk  there." 

"  They  don't  do  nothin'  —  do  they  ?  " 

"  Xot  much ;   at  least,  they  didn't  at  Woodville." 

"  Well,  gals  isn't  good  for  much,  nohow,"  said 
Ethan,  .philosophically,  as  he  commenced  milking 
another  cow. 

"They  can  do  some  things  as  well  as  boys." 

"  Perhaps  they  kin ;  but  you  couldn't  milk  a 
cow  till  you  kirn  out  hyer." 

"  I  could  not." 

"  Hokee  !  "  suddenly  exclaimed  Ethan.  "  What's 
all  that  mean  ?  " 

"What,   Ethan?" 

"  Don't  you  sec  all  them  hosses  up  to  the  house  ? 
Hokee!  Them's  Injins,  as  sure's  yuu  live!" 

Fanny  looked,  and  saw  about  twenty  Indians 
ride  up  to  the  house  and  dismount.  The  sight 
did  not  alarm  her,  though  it  was  rather  early  in 
the  morning  for  such  a  visit. 

"  D'ye  see  all  them  Injins,  Miss  Grant  ? "  said 
Ethan  to  his  mistress. 

"  Dear  me !  What  can  they  want  at  this  time 
in  the  morning :  I  must  go  into  the  house,  and 
see  to  them,  for  they'll  steal  like  all  possessed." 


TANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         179 

Mrs.  Grant  put  her  milk-pail  in  a  safe  place, 
and  hastened  to  the  house,  which  she  reached 
before  any  of  the  savages  had  secured  their  horses. 
Five  or  six  of  the  visitors  entered  by  the  front 
door,  and  the  rest  assembled  in  a  group,  a  short 
distance  from  the  dwelling. 

"  I  wonder  what  them  redskins  wants  here 
so  airly  in  the  mornin',"  mused  Ethan,  when 
Mrs.  Grant  had  gone.  "  I  wonder  ef  they  know 
there  ain't  no  one  to  home  but  women  folks  and 
boys." 

"  Suppose  they  do  know,  —  what  then  ?  "  asked 
Fanny. 

"  Xothin'  ;  only  I  reckon  they  kim  to  steal  sun- 
thin'." 

"  They  wouldn't  steal  from  aunt  Grant." 

"  Wouldn't  they,  though  ! "  exclaimed  Ethan,  in 
credulously. 

"  She  has  been  very  kind  to  them." 

"  They'd  steal  from  their  own  mothers,"  added 
Ethan,  as  he  finished  milking  another  cow,  and 
moved  towards  a  third. 

As    he    crossed   the    yard  he    stopped    to  look   at 


180  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

the  horses,  and  to  see  what  had  become  of  the 
riders. 

"  Hokee  ! "  cried  he,  using  his  favorite  expres 
sion  when  excited. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Ethan  ?  "   asked  Fanny. 

"  As  true  as  you  live,  one  of  them  bosses  is 
'  Whiteskin,'  "  replied  he,  alluding  to  one  of  Mr. 
Grant's  animals. 

"One  of  the  Indian  horses?" 

"  Yes ;  as  true  as  you  live  !  I  kin  see  the  old 
scar  on  his  flank." 

"  Where  could  the  Indians  get  him  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  know,"  continued  Ethan, 
now  so  much  excited  that  he  could  not  think  of 
his  milking.  "Creation  hokee  ! "  he  added  —  his 
usual  expression  when  extraordinarily  excited. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Creation  hokee  !  "  repeated  Ethan. 

"  What  do  you  see,  Ethan  ? "  demanded  Fanny, 
who  was  now  so  much  interested  that  she  aban 
doned  her  occupation. 

"  There's  the  t'other  hoss  ! "  replied  Ethan. 
"  They've  got  both  on  'em." 


FAXXY     GRANT     AMONG     TIIK     IXDIAXS.         181 

"  Where  could  they  get  'them  ? "  said  Fanny, 
who  regarded  the  fact  indicated  by  her  companion 
as  sufficiently  ominous  to  excite  her  alarm. 

"  That's  what  I'd  like  to  hev  some  'un  tell  me. 
Fanny,  I  tell  you  sunthin'  hes  happened." 

At  this  moment  a  shrill  and  terrible  scream  was 
heard  in  the  direction  of  the  house,  followed  by 
the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle.  Ethan,  and  Fanny, 
appalled  by  the  sounds,  looked  towards  the  house. 
They  saw  Mrs.  Grant  rush  from  the  back  door,  and 
then  fall  upon  the  ground.  Two  or  three  Indians 
followed  her,  in  one  of  whom  Fanny  recognized 
Lean  Bear,  the  stalwart  chief  she  had  endeavore.l 
to  conciliate.  He  bent  over  the  prostrate  form  of 
the  woman,  was  seen  to  strike  several  blows  with 
his  tomahawk,  and  then  to  use  his  terrible  scalping- 
knife. 

At  the  sound  of  the  rifle,  which  seemed  to  be 
a  signal  for  the  purpose,  the  savages  who  had 
grouped  together  outside  of  the  house  rushed  in, 
yelling  and  hooting  like  demons. 

"  Creation  hokee  ! "  gasped  Ethan,  his  face  as 
nearly  white  as  its  sun-browned  hue  would  permit. 
15 


182  HOPE     A\D     IIAVK,     OR 

Fanny's  blood  was  chilled  in  her  veins ;  she 
could  not  speak,  and  her  limbs  seemed  to  be  par 
alyzed.  And  now  in  the  distance  harsh  and  dis 
cordant  sounds  rose  on  the  still  morning  air.  They 
came  from  the  direction  of  the  other  portions  cf 
the  settlement.  The  shrill  screams  of  women,  the 
hoarse  cries  of  men,  and  the  unearthly  yells  of  the 
savages,  mingled  in  horrible  confusion.  It  was 
evident  to  the  appalled  listeners  that  a  fearful 
Indian  massacre  hud  commenced.  They  had  seen 
Mrs.  Grant  fall  ;  had  seen  the  fierce  Lean  Bear 
tomahawk  and  scalp  her. 

It  was  madness  to  stand  still  in  the  midst  of  so 
much  peril,  but  both  Kthan  and  Fanny  seemed  to 
be  chained  to  the  spot  where  they  stood,  fasci 
nated,  as  it  were,  by  the  anguished  cries  of  agony 
and  death  that  were  borne  to  their  revolting  senses 
by  the  airs  cf  that  summer  morning.  The  savages 
were  at  that  moment  busy  in  ransacking  and  plun 
dering  the  house,  but  Fanny  realized  that  she 
might  be  the  next  victim  ;  that  the  tomahawk  of 
the  terrible  Lean  Bear  might  be  glaring  above  her 
head  in  a  few  moments  more.  She  trembljd  like 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          183 

an  aspen  leaf  in  the  extremity  of  her  terror,  as  she 
heard  the  terrific  cries  uttered  by  the  mangled,  mu 
tilated,  dying  men,  women,  and  children,  far  enough 
off  to  be  but  faintly  heard,  yet  near  enough  to  be 
horribly  distinct. 

"  It's  time  sunthin'  was  did,"  said  Ethan,  with 
quivering  lips. 

"  What  can  we  do  ? "  asked  Fanny,  in  a  husky 
whisper. 

"  We  must  git  out  of  sight  fust.  Come  along 
with  me,  Fanny,"  added  Ethan,  as  he  led  the  way 
into  the  barn. 

"  They  will  find  us  here,"  said  Fanny. 

"  P'rhaps  they  will ;  but  there  ain't  nowhere  else 
to  go  to.'' 

"  Why  not  run  away  as  fast  as  we  can  ? " 

"We  kin  run,  but  I  reckon  bullets  will  travel 
faster  'n  we  kin." 

Ethan  went  up  a  ladder  to  the  top  of  the  hay 
mow,  and  Fanny  followed  him.  He  carried  up 
with  him  a  small  hay-fork,  with  which  he  went 
vigorously  to  work  in  burrowing  out  a  hole  in  the 
hay.  Fanny  assisted  him  with  her  hands,  and  in  a 


184  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OK 

few  moments  they  had  made  an  aperture  deep 
enough  to  accommodate  them.  This  hiding-place 
had  been  made  in  the  back  part  of  the  mow,  next 
to  the  side  of  the  barn,  where  there  were  wide 
cracks  between  the  boards,  through  which  they 
could  receive  air  enough  to  prevent  them  from 
being  stifled. 

"  Xow,  you  get  in,  Fanny,  and  I'll  fix  the  hay 
so  I  kin  tumble  it  all  down  on  top  on  us,  and  bury 
us  up." 

"  Suppose  they  should  set  the  barn  afire,"  sug 
gested  Fanny. 

"  Then  they'  will ;  we  must  take  our  chances, 
such  as  they  be.  We  hain't  got  much  chance 
nohow." 

Fanny  stepped  down  into  the  hole ;  Ethan  fol 
lowed  her,  and  pulled  the  mass  of  hay  over  so 
that  it  fell  upon  them.  They  were  four  or  five 
feet  below  the  surface  of  the  hay. 

"  I  would  rather  be  killed  by  a  bullet  than  burned 
to  death  in  the  fire,"  said  Fanny,  with  a  shudder, 
when  her  companion  had  adjusted  the  hay  so  as  to 
afford  them  the  best  possible  means  of  concealment. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        185 

"  P'rhaps  they  wouldn't  kill  you  with  a  bullet. 
Them  redskins  is  awful  creeturs.  They  might  hack 
you  all  to  pieces  with  their  knives  and  tomahawks," 
Avhispered  Ethan. 

"  It's  horrible ! "  added  Fanny,  quivering  with 
emotion. 

"  I've  hearn  tell  that  there  was  some  trouble  with 
the  redskins  up  on  to  the  reserves ;  and  I  knowed 
sunthin'  had  happened  when  I  see  them  two  hosses. 
I  was  kind  o'  skeery  when  the  varmints  rid  up  to 
the  house." 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  have  killed  my  uncle  ? " 
asked  Fanny,  sick  at  heart. 

"  I  s'pose  they  hev,"  answered  Ethan,  gloomily. 
"  I  reckon  we'd  better  keep  still,  and  not  say  nothin'. 
Some  o'  the  redskins  may  be  lookin'  for  us.  They're 
pesky  cunnin'." 

This  was  good  advice,  and  Fanny  needed  no  per 
suasion  to  induce  her  to  follow  it.  Through  the 
cracks  in  the  side  of  the  barn  she  could  see  a  few 
houses  of  the  settlement ;  and  through  these  apertures 
came  also  the  hideous  sounds  which  denoted  the 
progress  of  the  massacre.  Great  piles  of  curling 
16* 


186  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OK 

fimoke  were  rising  from  the  burning  buildings  of  the 
devoted  settlers,  and  the  work  of  murder  and  pillage 
still  continued,  as  the  relentless  savages  passed  from 
place  to  place  in  the  execution  of  their  diabolical 
mission. 

The  greater  part  of  the  detachment  which  had 
halted  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Grant  had  now  departed, 
though  the  sounds  which  came  from  the  dwelling 
indicated  that  the  rest  were  still  there.  Lean  Bear 
knew  the  members  of  Mr.  Grant's  household.  With 
his  own  hand  he  had  slain  the  woman  who  had 
so  often  fed  him,  and  ministered  to  his  necessities, 
thus  belying  the  traditional  character  of  his  race  ; 
and  it  was  not  probable  that  he  would  abandon  his 
object  without  a  diligent  search  for  the  missing 
members  of  the  family. 

Fanny  was  safe  for  the  present  moment,  but  the 
next  instant  might  doom  her  to  a  violent  death,  to 
cruel  torture,  or  to  a  captivity  more  to  be  dreaded 
than  either  death  or  torture.  She  trembled  wi:h 
mortal  fear,  and  dreaded  the  revelations  of  each 
new  second  of  time  with  an  intensity  of  horror  which 
cannot  be  understood  or  described. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         187 

"  They  are  comin'  out  of  the  house,"  said  Ethan, 
in  a  tremulous  whisper.  "  There's  seven,  on  'em." 

"  Are  they  coming  this  way  ?  " 

"  No ;  they  are  lookin'  round  arter  us.  They  are 
going  down  to  the  lake." 

"  I  hope  they  won't  come  here." 

"  But  they  will  kim  here,  as  sure  as  you  live." 

"  Do  you  ever  pray,  Ethan  : "  asked  Fanny,  im 
pressively. 

"  Not  much,"  replied  he,  evasively. 

"  Let  us  pray  to  God.  He  can  help  us,  and  He 
will,  if  we  ask  Him  in  the  right  spirit." 

"  I  dunno  how,"   added  Ethan. 

"  I  will  pray  for  both  of  us.  The  Indians  can't 
hear  us  now,  hut  God  can." 

Fanny,  in  a  whisper,  uttered  a  hrief  and  heart 
felt  prayer  for  protection  and  safety  from  the  savage 
monsters  who  were  thirsting  for  their  blood.  She 
prayed  earnestly,  and  never  before  had  her  suppli 
cations  come  so  directly  from  her  heart.  She 
plead, d  for  herself  and  for  her  companion,  and  the 
good  Father  seemed  to  be  very  near  to  her  as  she 
poured  forth  her  simple  petition. 


188  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

"  Thy  will,  not  ours,  be  done,"  she  murmured,  as 
she  thought  that  it  might  not  be  the  purpose  of 
"  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well"  to  save  them  from 
the  tomahawk  of  the  Indians.  If  it  was  not  His 
will  that  they  should  pass  in  safety  through  this 
ordeal  of  blood,  she  asked  that  they  might  be  happy 
in  death,  or  submissive  to  whatever  fate  was  in 
store  for  them. 

Ethan  listened  to  the  prayer,  and  seemed  to  join 
earnestly  in  the  petitions  it  contained.  With  his 
more  devout  companion,  he  felt  that  God  was  able 
to  save  them,  to  blunt  the  edges  of  the  weapons 
raised  to  destroy  them,  or  to  transform  their  savage 
and  bitter  foes  into  the  warmest  and  truest  of 
friends. 

"  I  feel  better,"  said  Fanny,  after  a  moment  of 
silence  at  the  conclusion  of  the  prayer. 

"  So  do  I,"  replied  Ethan,  whose  altered  look 
and  more  resolute  tones  confirmed  his  words.  "  I 
feel  like  I  couU  fiyht  some  o'  them  Injins." 

"  We  can  do  nothing  by  resistance." 

"  I  dunno  ;  if  they  don't  burn  the  house,  I  reckon 
I  know  v.har  to  find  some  shootin'  fixin's.'' 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    189 

"Where?" 

"  Mr.  Grant  sort  o'  hid  his  rifle  and  things,  for 
fear  some  un  might  steal  'em,  I  s'pose.  I  know 
where  they  be ;  and  I  reckon  them  redskins  won't 
find  'em." 

"  Let  us  not  think  of  resistance.  There  must  be 
hundreds  of  Indians  at  the  settlement." 

"  'Sh ! "  said  Ethan,  impressively.  "  They're 
comin'." 

The  light  step  of  the  moccasoned  feet  of  the 
savages  was  now  distinctly  heard  in  the  barn. 
Their  guttural  jargon  grated  harshly  on  the  ears  of 
the  fugitives  in  their  concealment,  as  they  trem 
blingly  waited  the  issue. 


190  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OK 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

THE     INDIAN     BOY. 

ABOVE  the  voices  of  the  other  savages,  the  harsh 
and  heavy  tones  of  Lean  Bear  were  prominent. 
He  spoke  in  the  Indian  dialect,  and  of  course  the 
anxious  fugitives  could  not  understand  what  he 
said  ;  but  he  seemed  to  be  angry  and  impatient, 
disappointed  and  chagrined ;  and  Ethan  and  Fanny 
readily  inferred  that,  as  he  was  searching  for  them, 
he  was  the  more  ferocious  because  he  could  not 
find  them.  They  lay  silent  and  motionless  in  their 
hiding-place,  hardly  daring  to  breathe,  lest  a  sound 
should  reach  the  quick  ears  of  their  relentless  foes. 

The  Indians  searched  in  every  nook  and  cranny 
of  the  barn  where  a  human  being  could  possibly 
be  concealed.  They  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
mow,  pulled  over  the  hay,  jumped  upon  it,  and 
thrust  their  knives  deep  down.  The  fugitives  felt 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         191 

the  weight  of  the  pursuers  pressing  heavily  down 
upon  them ;  they  realized  that  the  points  of  the 
bloody  knives  were  within  a  short  distance  of  their 
vital  organs ;  but,  breathless  and  silent,  they  lay  in 
the  most  agonizing  suspense,  expecting  to  be  dragged 
from  their  retreat,  and  subjected  to  atrocities  which 
it  froze  their  blood  to  think  of. 

The  remorseless  miscreants  howled  with  disap 
pointed  rage  as  the  search  was  abandoned.  Fanny 
and  Ethan  drew  a  long  sigh  of  relief  when  they 
heard  their  foes  on  the  floor  beneath  them.  The 
good  Father  to  whom,  they  prayed  so  earnestly  had 
dimmed  the  eyes  of  the  savages  so  that  they  could 
not  see,  and  the  danger  of  that  terrible  moment 
passed  by  them.  Fanny  breathed  her  thanks  to 
God  for  her  safety  —  she  did  not  dare  to  speak 
them. 

The  savages  consulted  together,  using  brief,  sharp, 
and  exciting  sentences.  Their  words  were  not  un 
derstood,  and  no  clew  to  their  future  purposes  could 
be  obtained.  Lean  Bear  spoke  in  tones  even  more 
savage  than  he  had  used  before,  and  the  steps  of 
the  Indians  were  heard  as  they  left  the  barn. 


192  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OH 

"  Hev  they  gone  ? "  asked  Ethan,  in  a  convul 
sive  whisper. 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  have,"  replied  Fanny,  in  a 
tone  not  less  agitated.  "  Let  us  thank  God  that 
we  are  still  safe." 

"  Don't  whistle  till  you  get  out  o'  the  woods," 
added  Ethan,  who  referred,  not  to  the  thanks,  but 
to  the  exultation  which  his  companion  appeared  to 
feel  at  their  apparent  safety. 

"  We  must  be  thankful  and  submissive,  Ethan. 
We  have  been  saved  this  time,  whatever  may  hap 
pen  next." 

"  I  am  thankful." 

"  I  know  you  are.  We  must  trust  in  our  Father 
in  heaven  if  we  expect  him  to  hear  our  prayer." 

"'Sh!"  interposed  Ethan,  as  he  became  silent 
and  motionless  a~ain. 

The  voices  of  the  Indians  were  heard  near  the 
barn  again,  and  other  moments  of  agonizing  sus 
pense  were  in  store  for  the  fugitives.  The  gruff 
tones  of  Lean  Bear  rose  above  those  of  his  com 
panions,  and  it  was  evident  that  they  had  not  yet 
given  up  the  search. 


FANXY     GRANT     AJIONG     THE     INDIANS.         193 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  He,  he,  lie  ! "  yelled  Ihe  mon 
sters,  which  cries  were  to  them  expressions  of  sat 
isfaction. 

It  was  painfully  clear  to  Ethan  and  Fanny  that 
the  Indians  had  made  some  important  discovery,  or 
done  some  act  which  would  accomplish  their  pur 
pose.  More  agonizing  than  the  thought  came  the 
reality,  a  few  moments  afterwards,  while  the  wretches 
outside  of  the  barn  were  still  shouting  their  hid 
eous  yells.  A  smell  of  smoke,  accompanied  by  a 
sharp,  crackling  sound,  assured  the  waiting,  trem 
bling  couple  in  the  hay-mow  that  their  worst  fears 
were  realized.  The  Indians  had  set  fire  to  the 
barn. 

"  We  are  lost  !  "  exclaimed  Fanny.  "  They  have 
set  fire  to  the  barn  ! " 

"  'Sh !     Don't  say  a  word,"  interposed  Ethan. 

"  We  shall  be  burned  to   death  ! " 

"  Don't  give  up  ;   keep  still." 

"  Keep  still  ? "  repeated  Fanny,  amazed  at  the 
self-possession  of  her  companion.  "  We  shall  be 
burned  to  death  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  Don't  say  nothin',  Fanny." 
17 


194  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

It  was  not  easy  to  keep  still  in  that  terrible 
moment  of  peril,  but  Ethan  seemed  to  know  what 
he  was  about,  and  his  coolness  and  courage  acted 
as  inspiration  upon  his  terrified  companion.  Fanny 
prayed  again,  in  a  hardly  audible  whisper  ;  but 
this  time,  Ethan,  though  perhaps  his  heart  was  with 
her,  was  thinking  of  something  else.  She  felt  more 
calm  after  her  prayer,  though  the  dense  smoke  and 
the  snapping  flames  admonished  her  that  death  was 
close  at  hand.  The  rough  prairie  boy  looked  reso 
lute,  and  seemed  to  have  conquered  his  fears.  She 
wondered  whether  he  had  discovered  any  possible 
avenue  of  escape,  for  nothing  but  the  promptings  of 
a  strong  hope,  whether  real  or  delusive,  could  have 
produced  such  a  change  in  his  bearing. 

"  Better  be  burned  up,  than  butchered  by  the 
redskins,"  said  he,  at  last. 

Was  this  the  explanation  of  his  new-born  cour 
age  ?  It  was  a  terrible  alternative,  but  Fanny  was 
forced  to  believe  that  what  he  said  was  true. 

"Is  there  no  escape  fjr  us?" 

"  Don'no  ;   whar's  the  Injins  now  ?  " 
•    "  I  don't  hear  them,"  replied  Fanny.. 


FANNY     GTCANT     AMOXO     THE     INDIANS.        195 

"  Nuther  do  I.  We  must  stay  here  jest  as  long 
as  we  kin." 

"  But  the  barn  is  on  fire  !  If  we  are  going  tr> 
get  out  at  all,  we  must  do  so  at  once." 

"  Don't  hurry.  The  fire's  all  out  to  t'other  eend 
o'  the  barn.  It  won't  hurt  us  jest  yit,"  said  Ethan, 
with  wonderful  coolness.  "  I  s'pose  the  Injins  is 
in  a  hurry,  and  they  won't  stop  no  longer 'n  they 
want  to.  Jest  as  soon  as  they  move  off  we'll  git 
out." 

"  How  shall  we  get  out  after  the  barn  is  all  in 
a  blaze  ?  " 

"  That's  easy  enough.  I  ain't  a  bit  afeered  of 
the  fire,  but  I  am  pesky  skeered  of  the  Injins." 

The  confidence  of  Ethan  increased  the  courage 
of  Fanny.  She  had  more  to  dread  from  the  In 
dians  than  he  had,  and  if  he  preferred  to  die  by 
the  flames,  she  ought  to  be  willing  to  share  his 
fate.  She  commended  her  soul  and  that  of  her 
companion  to  God,  and  tried  to  be  calm  and  reso 
lute,  and  she  succeeded  to  an  extent  which  aston 
ished  herself. 

The    fire   was   rapidly   leaping    upward,    and    the 


196  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

barn  was  soon  enveloped  in  flames.  The  Indians 
could  not  now  be  seen  through  the  cracks,  nor 
could  their  voices  be  heard,  and  the  fire-besieged 
fugitives  supposed  they  had  gone  to  new  fields  of 
blood  and  rapine. 

"  We  can't  stand  it  much  longer  —  kin  we  :  " 
said  Ethan,  as  they  heard  the  crash  of  some  falling 
timbers  at  the  other  end  of  the  building. 

"  \\"e  are  not  burned  yet,  but  I  am  nearly  suffo 
cated  by  the  smoke,"  replied  Fanny.  "  Do  you 
suppose  the  Indians  are  gone  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  be  ;  but  they  hain't  gone  fur 
yit,"  added  Ethan,  as  he  applied  his  shoulder  to 
one  of  the  boards  on  the  side  of  the  barn. 

"  Let  me  help  you,"   said  Fanny. 

"  You  ain't  nothin'  but  a  gal,  and  you  can't  do 
much,"  replied  Ethan. 

He  was  a  stout  boy,  and  the  board,  only  slightly 
nailed,  gave  way  before  the  pressure  he  applied  to 
it ;  but  it  required  a  great  deal  of  labor  to  detach 
it  from  the  timbers  above  and  below.  He  had 
not  begun  this  work  a  moment  too  soon,  for  the 
flames  were  sweeping  over  the  surface  of  the  mow, 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          197 

and  the  roof  was  falling  in  upon  them.  The  barn 
was  stored  full  of  new  hay,  which,  being  partially 
green,  did  not  burn  very  readily,  especially  the  solid 
masses  of  it.  The  heat  was  intense,  and  nothing 
but  a  greater  peril  without  could  have  forced  them 
to  remain  so  long  in  the  building. 

The  first  board  was  removed,  and  then  a  second, 
leaving  an  opening  wide  enough  for  them  to  get 
out.  They  were  about  fifteen  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  ground,  but  there  was  no  difficulty,  even  to 
Fanny,  in  the  descent,  though  some  young  lacies 
might  have  regarded  this  minor  obstacle  as  one  of 
some  importance.  Ethan  thrust  his  head  out  at 
the  aperture,  and  looked  in  every  direction  his 
position  commanded  a  viow  of,  in  search  of  the 
Indians,  but  none  of  them  were  in  sight. 

"  Be  quick,  Ethan,  or  the  fire  will  be  upon  us," 
said  Fanny,  who  began  to  feel  the  near  approach 
of  the  flames  above  her. 

''Where  shall  we  go  when  we  get  out?  Wo 
must  understand  matters  a  leetle  grain  aforehand."' 

"  I  think  we  had  better  go  down  to  the  lake. 
We  can  take  the  boat  and  go  over  to  the  island." 


198  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OK 

"  That's  fust  rate,"  replied  Ethan,  with  enthu 
siasm.  "  The  Injins  hain't  got  no  boats,  and  can't 
follcr  us.  Xow  we'll  go  down  ;  but  be  keerful. 
It  would  be  miserable  to  break  your  neck  here,  artcr 
gittin'  clear  of  the  fire  and  the  Injins  both." 

Ethan  descended,  holding  on  at  each  side  of  the 
aperture  with  his  hands,  and  thrusting  his  feet  into 
the  solid  mass  of  hay  in  the  mow.  Fanny,  adopt 
ing  the  same  method,  also  readied  the  ground  in 
safety. 

"  'Sh  !  "  said  Ethan,  as  lie  took  her  arm.  "  Run 
for  them  bushes  !  "  and  he  pointed  to  a  little  thicket 
near  the  barn. 

Fanny  ran  with  all  her  speed  to  the  bushes,  and 
concealed  herself  behind  them,  She  was  immedi 
ately  followed  by  Ethan.  The  barn  was  now  nearly 
consumed ;  the  portion  of  the  roof  which  had  not 
before  fallen  in,  now  sunk  down  with  a  crash  upon 
the  masses  of  burning  hay.  The  lake  was  beyond 
the  house,  which  they  were  obliged  to  pass  in  order 
to  reach  their  destination. 

"  I  s'pose  the  sooner  we  start,  the  sooner  we  11 
git  there,''  said  Ethan,  after  he  had  carefully  sur- 


FANXY      GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.          199 

veyed  the  ground  to  ascertain  if  any  savages  were 
near. 

"  I  am  ready,  Ethan.  I  will  do  whatever  you 
say." 

"  We'll  go  now,  then.     Foller  me,  Fanny." 

Ethan  led  the  way,  but  they  had  hardly  emerged 
from  the  bushes  before  they  were  appalled  to  find 
that  they  were  discovered  by  their  savage  foes. 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho ! "  yelled  the  Indians  from  behind 
them. 

It  appeared  that  Lean  Bear  and  his  companions 
had  waited  in  the  vicinity  until  the  burning  barn 
was  so  far  consumed  that  it  was  not  deemed  possible 
for  a  human  being  to  remain  concealed  in  it,  and 
then  moved  off  towards  another  part  of  the  settle 
ment.  With  watchful  eyes  behind  as  well  as  before 
them,  they  had  discovered  the  young  fugitives  when 
they  left  the  clump  of  bushes. 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  ! "  shouted  the  painted  wretches,  as 
they  gave  chase  to  Fanny  and  Ethan. 

"  Run  for  the  house  !  "   cried  Ethan. 

"  Why  not  for  the  lake : "  asked  Fanny,  in  an 
agony  of  despair. 


200  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OU 

"  They'll  ketch  you  afore  you  git  half  way  there. 
llun  for  the  house  !  " 

They  were  both  running  with  all  their  might ; 
and  Fanny,  though  against  her  judgment,  directed 
her  steps  to  the  house.  As  they  approached  the 
back  door,  an  Indian  boy  and  a  squaw  came  out 
of  the  building,  where  they  had  probably  been 
searching  for  such  valuables  as  might  have  escaped 
the  hasty  observation  of  the  party  who  had  sacked 
the  premises.  The  boy  was  apparently  about  ten 
years  old,  and  the  woman  appeared  to  be  his 
mother. 

Fanny,  not  suspecting  any  harm  from  a  woman 
and  so  young  a  boy,  still  ran  towards  the  door, 
being  in  advance  of  Ethan,  who  was  chivalrous 
enough  to  place  himself  in  position  to  cover  the 
retreat  of  his  companion  in  case  of  need.  To  the 
surprise  of  Fanny,  the  squaw  placed  herself  in  her 
path,  and  attempted  to  seize  her,  uttering  yells 
hardly  less  savage  than  those  of  her  male  com 
panions,  The  terrified  girl  paused  in  her  rapid 
flight  till  Lthan  came  up.  The  resolute  fellow  had 
already  picked  up  a  heavy  cart  stake,  and  when  he 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         201 

saw  the  new  and  unexpected  peril  which  menaced 
Fanny,  he  rushed  forward,  and  though  the  squaw 
drew  a  long  knife  and  stood  her  ground,  he  dealt 
her  a  heavy  blow  on  the  head,  which  felled  her  to 
the  ground. 

"  Run  into  the  house  as  fast  as  you  kin,  Fanny," 
said  Ethan. 

She  obeyed,  and,  in  doing  so,  passed  the  scalped 
and  mutilated  form  of  her  aunt,  which  lay  near  the 
door.  The  sight  made  her  sick  at  heart,  and  she 
had  almost  fainted  under  the  horror  induced  by  a 
single  glance  at  the  ghastly  spectacle.  Such  might, 
and  probably  would  be  her  own  fate,  for  it  was 
hoping  against  hope  to  expect  any  other  issue. 

She  reached  the  door,  and  clung  to  the  post  for 
support.  Then  she  saw  that  Ethan,  instead  of  fol 
lowing  her,  was  pursuing  the  Indian  boy.  It  was 
but  a'  short  chase,  for  he  immediately  overtook  the 
youth,  and  in  spite  of  his  yells,  dragged  him  into 
the  house  with  him.  Ethan  seemed  then  to  have 
a  savage  spirit,  for  he  handled  the  boy  without 
mercy,  dragging  him  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  and 
kicking  him  to  accelerate  his  movements. 


202  HOPE     ANI)     HAVE,     OR 

The  capture  of  the  young  Indian  had  been  wit 
nessed  by  the  whole  of  the  pursuing  party,  who 
yelled  with  renewed  vigor  when  they  saw  him  borne 
into  the  house.  When  they  reached  the  place  where 
the  squaw  had  fallen,  they  paused.  The  tall  form 
of  Lean  Bear  was  seen  bending  over  her,  and  it 
Avas  plain  that  there  was  confusion  in  the  counsels 
of  the  savages. 

"  Hold  this  boy,  Fanny,"  said  Ethan,  out  of  breath 
with  the  violence  of  his  exertions,  as  he  took  from 
the  belt  of  the  little  prisoner  a  small  scalping-knife, 
and  offered  it  to  Fanny.  "  Don't  let  him  go,  no 
how  ;  stick  him  ef  he  don't  keep  still.'' 

"  I  can  hold  him ;  I  don't  wan't  the  knife,"  re 
plied  she,  as  she  grasped  the  boy  by  the  arms, 
bending  them  back  behind  him. 

Taking  her  handkerchief,  she  tied  his  arms  behind 
him,  so  that  he  was  powerless  to  do  her  any  mischief. 
She  then  cut  off  a  portion  of  the  clothes  line,  which 
hung  up  in  the  kitchen,  and  tied  his  feet  together. 
In  this  condition,  he  was  secured  to  a  door.  The 
boy  looked  cool  and  savage ;  he  did  not  cry,  and 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         203 

ceased   to   struggle   only   when   the   bonds   prevented 
him  from  doing  so. 

"  Now  we  are  ready  for  sunthin',"  said  Ethan, 
as  he  appeared  with  two  guns  and  a  revolver,  which 
he  had  taken  from  their  place  of  concealment  behind 
the  oven. 


204  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 


CHAPTER     XV. 

THE     CONFERENCE. 

MR.  GRANT,  like  all  settlers  and  backwoodsmen, 
had  a  profound  respect  and  veneration  for  his  weap 
ons.  They  were  absolutely  necessary  for  purposes 
of  defence  in  a  new  country,  and  upon  their  skilful 
use  often  depended  the  supplies  in  the  family  larder. 
More  coveted  than  any  other  property  by  the  Indians, 
trappers  and  strollers  of  the  prairies,  he  was  obliged 
to  secure  them  carefully,  so  that  they  should  not  be 
stolen;  and  Mr.  Grant,  in  building  his  house,  had 
provided  the  place  behind  the  oven  for  their  re 
ception. 

One  of  the  guns  was  a  fowling-piece,  and  the 
other  a  rifle.  The  appropriate  ammunition  for  each 
was  kept  in  the  secret  closet  with  the  weapon. 
For  the  revolver  there  was  a  plentiful  supply  of 
patent  cartridges.  Mr.  Grant  owned  two  of  these 
arms,  but  the  other  he  had  taken  with  him. 


FANNY     GEANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         205 

Like  all  western  boys,  Ethan  French  was  accus 
tomed  to  the  use  of  the  rifle  and  the  fowling-piece, 
though  he  had  never  particularly  distinguished  him 
self  as  a  marksman.  It  was  a  bold  idea  on  his  part 
to  think  of  defending  Fanny  and  himself  from  the 
attacks  of  the  savages  ;  but,  desperate  as  was  the 
thought,  it  was  his  only  hope,  for  the  Indians  were 
murdering  all  who  fell  into  their  hands.  There  was 
a  slight  chance  for  him,  which  he  was  disposed  to 
improve. 

Ethan  evidently  had  some  other  purpose  in  view 
than  that  of  merely  defending  himself  and  his  com 
panion  from  the  savages  —  a  purpose  indicated  by  his 
capture  of  the  Indian  boy,  though  he  had  not  had 
time  to  explain  it  to  Fanny.  He  was  firm  and 
resolute,  exhibiting  a  courage  which  no  one  would 
have  supposed  he  possessed ;  indeed,  we  can  hardly 
know  what  is  in  any  person  until  he  is  tried  in  the 
fiery  furnace. 

Fanny,  too,  had  ceased  to  tremble.     The  firmness 

and   determination   of  Ethan  had   inspired  her  with 

courage,  and  without  stopping  to  consider  the  odds 

against  him,  she  ventured  to  hope   that  his  efforts 

18 


206  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

would  be  crowned  with  some  measure  of  success. 
The  occupation  of  the  last  few  moments  was  cal 
culated  to  increase  her  courage,  for  "  something  to 
do "  is  always  the  best  antidote  for  fear.  She  had 
bound  the  young  savage,  and  secured  him  to  the 
door,  when  Ethan  appeared  with  the  weapons ;  and 
now  she  anxiously  waited  the  development  of  his 
next  movement. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Ethan  ?  "  she  asked, 
as  her  companion  walked  to  the  door. 

"I  don't  know  jest  exactly  what  I'm  go'ri  to  do; 
but  I'm  go'n  to  do  sunthin',  as  sure  as  you're  alive. 
I  reckon  I've  done  sunthin'  already,  for  them  Injins 
hes  come  to  a  dead  halt." 

"  Can  you  see  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  kin.      They  look  kinder  anxious." 

The  group  of  savages  had  gathered  around  the 
prostrate  form  of  the  squaw.  She  could  not  have 
been  killed,  or  even  very  badly  injured,  by  the  blow 
she  had  received.  Two  of  the  party  appeared  to  be 
at  work  over  her,  while  the  others,  among  whom 
Lean  Bear  was  prominent,  were  holding  a  consulta 
tion  near  the  spot. 


FANNY  GKANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    207 

"  I  reckon  I  got  'em  whar  the  har  's  short,"  added 
Ethan,  with  something  like  a  chuckle  at  his  own 
cleverness. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Ethan  ?  "  asked  Fanny,  not 
yet  able  to  comprehend  the  situation. 

"  D'ye  see  that  little  Injin  ? "  replied  he,  pointing 
at  the  prisoner. 

"  Yes ;  and  I  wondered  what  you  dragged  him 
into  the  house  for." 

"Don't  you  see  his  fine  fixin's  —  his  necklaces 
and  his  moccasons  ?  I  reckon  that  boy  belongs  to 
the  big  Injin." 

"  You  mean  Lean  Bear." 

"Yes,  if  that's  his  name.  He  looks  enough 
like  him  to  be  his  son.  Gittin'  him  's  what  made 
'em  stop  short  jist  whar  they  was.  I  tell  you  we've 
got  'em  whar  the  har  's  short." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  him?" 

"Don't  ye  see?"  replied  Ethan,  as  he  finished 
loading  the  last  of  the  weapons.  "  I'm  go'n  to 
shoot  some  of  them  Injins ;  and  ef  they  don't  keep 
off  I'm  go'n  to  shoot  the  boy." 

"  You  wouldn't  do  that,  Ethan." 


208  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OB 

"  You  bet !  "  replied  he,  firmly,  using  more  west 
ern  slang  than  was  necessary,  though  he  was  de 
pendent  upon  such  expressions  for  the  force  of  his 
language. 

"  But  it  would  be  wicked  to  kill  the  poor  boy." 

"  What's  them  Injins  doin'  to  all  the  white  folks  r" 

"  That  is  no  reason  why  you  should  kill  a  harm 
less  boy." 

"  I  don't  want  to  kill  him ;  it  would  make  me 
feel  bad  to  do  any  sech  thing.  Ef  any  of  them 
Injins  come  near  us,  I'm  go'n  to  show  'em  what 
I  kin  do.  Keep  still  now ;  one  on  'em  is  comin* 
up  this  way." 

Ethan  placed  himself  at  one  of  the  open  windows, 
and  cocked  the  rifle.  One  of  the  party  M-as  mov 
ing  towards  the  house,  apparently  sent  thither  by 
Lean  Bear,  who  appeared  suddenly  to  have  become 
very  quiet  and  harmless. 

"  See  hyer,  Fanny,"  said  Ethan,  still  keeping  his 
eye  fixed  on  the  approaching  foe. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ? "  asked  Fanny. 

"  Did  you  tie  that  little  Injin's  hands  strong  ? '' 

"  As  well  as  I  could  with  my  handkerchief." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         209 

"  Letter  do  it  better  with  the  clothes  line.  Then 
undo  his  feet,  and  put  a  rope  round  his  neck." 

"Around  his  neck!"  exclaimed  Fanny,  horrified 
at  the  suggestion. 

"  Jest  to  lead  him  by.  We  may  want  to  quit 
this  house  reyther  suddin." 

Fanny  obeyed,  satisfied  that  Ethan  did  not  intend 
to  hang  the  boy.  The  Indian,  approaching  the  house, 
moved  very  slowly  and  cautiously,  frequently  stop 
ping,  and  examining  the  house  with  great  care. 
Ethan  was  on  one  of  his  knees,  pointing  the  rifle 
at  the  single  Indian,  resting  it  on  the  sill  of  the 
window.  When  Lean  Bear's  messenger  saw  him, 
he  came  to  a  halt,  and  began  to  make  earnest 
gestures,  pointing  to  his  belt,  and  throwing  out 
his  arms  to  indicate  that  he  had  no  weapons. 

"  What  does  that  crcetur  want  ? "  mused  Ethan. 

"  He  wants  to  talk  with  you,"  replied  Fanny, 
correctly  interpreting  his  gestures. 

"  I  can't  talk  Injin  —  kin  you  ?  " 

"  No ;    but  some  of  the  Indians  talk  English." 

"  What  ye  want  ?  "    shouted   Ethan,  satisfied  that 
the  man's  intentions  were  peaceful. 
18* 


210  IIOI'E     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  Talk  !    talk  !  "    replied  the  messenger. 

*'  Kim  along,  then,"  replied  Ethan.  "  That's  jest 
what  I  want,  too,''  he  added,  to  Fanny.  "  I  want 
to  tell  them  Injins  that  this  hyer  boy  will  ketch 
fits  if  they  don't  let  us  be." 

The  Indian,  still  gesticulating,  continued  to  ap 
proach  the  house  with  cautious  step.  Ethan  put 
aside  the  rifle,  and  took  the  revolver,  which  he  was 
careful  that  the  messenger  should  see. 

"  Stop  thyer ! "  said  he,  when  the  Indian  had  come 
within  twenty  feet  of  the  house ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  he  elevated  his  pistol  to  enforce  obedience  to 
his  order. 

"  Me  talk,"   said  the  messenger. 

"  Well  !  what  ye  got  to  say  ?  "   asked  Ethan. 

"You  got  Wahena —  little  Wahena." 

"  Yes,  sir  !  "  replied  Ethan,  with  emphasis.  "  I've 
got  him,  and  I  mean  to  keep  him." 

"  Xo  keep !  We  want  Wahena,"  continued  the 
messenger. 

"  Xo  git  him,"  added  Ethan,  who  was  inclined  to 
be  facetious  at  times,  especially  when  the  advantage 
was  on  his  side. 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         211 

"  Lean  Bear's  son.  Big  Lean  Bear  —  little  Wa- 
hena." 

"  You  can't  hev  him,  nohow,"  said  Ethan,  de 
cidedly. 

"Me  get  Wahena  —  you  go  'way — no  kill,  no 
hurt." 

"  You  can't  fool  me." 

"No  kill,  no  hurt." 

"  No,  yer  don't !  " 

"Give  Wahena  —  no  kill,  no  hurt,"  repeated  the 
messenger,  impressively. 

"  You  git  out  !  " 

"No  give  Wahena,  Lean  Bear  kill!" 

"  Two  kin  play  at  that  game,"  added  Ethan, 
shaking  his  head.  "  Ef  you  don't  quit,  I'll  kill  the 
boy." 

"  No  kill  Wahena  !  "  cried  the  savage,  evidently 
horrified  at  the  threat. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  old  boy,  ef  you  don't  all  go  off, 
and  quit  right  away.  I  know  what's  what,  'n  you 
can't  fool  me,  nohow." 

"  Why  not  give  up  the  boy,  if  they  will  let  us 
go  ?  ''  asked  Fanny. 


212  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"You  can't  trust  one  o'  them  Injin  creel urs  no 
more'n  you  kin  trust  a  rattlesnake,  nohow.  Jest 
fetch  the  boy  here,  and  I'll  show  'em  what  I  mean." 

Fanny  had  fastened  Wahena's  hands  more  se 
curely  behind  him,  and  attached  one  end  of  the 
line  to  his  neck.  She  had  removed  the  cord  from 
his  ankles,  so  that  he  could  walk,  while  by  the 
rope  at  his  neck  he  could  be  kept  under  perfect 
control.  Ethan  took  the  line,  and  led  the  boy  out 
at  the  door,  where  he  was  placed  in  full  view  of 
the  savages.  His  captor  still  held  the  loaded  pistol 
in  his  hand. 

"  No  kill  Wahena  !  "  shouted  the  messenger, 
fiercely. 

"I  won't  hurt  him  cf  you  all  go  off — go  'way 
—  clear  out  —  quit  the  ranch." 

"  Xo  hurt  ?  "   asked  the  Indian. 

"  All  go  'way,"  answered  Ethan,  pointing  to  the 
west  with  the  revolver. 

"Give  Wahena  —  all  go." 

"  Xo,  sir  I " 

"*1N"o  give  Wahena  ?  " 

"  I'll  kill  him  ef   them  crccturs  come  hyer,"   said 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    21  & 

Ethan,  sternly,  as  he  pointed  the  pistol  at  the  boy's 
head. 

"  No  kill  Wahena  !  "  shouted  the  messenger. 

"  Tell  'em  to  keep  back,  then." 

This  demonstration  on  the  part  of  Ethan  had 
been  caused  by  the  sudden  movement  of  the  sav 
ages  towards  the  house.  Their  spokesman  fortu 
nately  understood  his  meaning,  and  turning  round, 
he  shouted  out  a  few  words  in  the  Indian  dialect, 
accompanying  them  with  violent  gestures,  which 
had  the  effect  to  stop  the  nearer  approach  of  the 
band.  As  they  moved  back,  Ethan  lowered  his 
weapon.  Wahena  did  not  flinch,  nor  exhibit  any 
signs  of  terror  while  he  was  menaced  with  the  pistol, 
though  he  looked  stern  and  resolute,  as  he  had 
probably  been  taught  to  be  by  his  savage  father. 

Ethan,  finding  that  he  had  the  power  all  in 
his  own  hands,  walked  a  few  paces  nearer  to  the 
messenger,  dragging  his  prisoner  after  him.  It  was 
not  an  easy  matter  to  carry  on  a  conversation  with 
the  savage,  whose  knowledge  of  the  English  lan 
guage  was  limited  to  a  few  words ;  but  after  a  long 
time,  and  a  great  deal  of  effort,  he  succeeded  in 


214  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

making  the  Indian  spokesman  understand  his  inten 
tion.  He  refused  to  give  up  Wahena,  but  he 
promised  that  the  boy  should  not  be  injured  if 
the  Indians  would  retire,  and  not  attempt  to  molest 
Fanny  or  himself.  He  assured  the  messenger  that 
he  would  kill  the  boy  if  the  savages  followed,  cr 
fired  upon  himself  or  his  companion. 

It  was  a  long  and  trying  conference,  and  when 
the  parties  came  to  an  understanding,  the  Indian 
withdrew  to  communicate  the  result  to  his  chief. 
Ethan  returned  to  the  house  with  his  prisoner,  and 
from  the  window  watched  the  movements  of  the 
foe,  while  he  related  to  Fanny  what  had  passed 
between  himself  and  the  messenger  during  the  in 
terview. 

"  I  reckon  they'll  do  it,  Fanny,"  said  Ethan. 

"  I  hope  they  will." 

"  When  we  are  safe,  they  kin  hev  the  Injin  boy ; 
I  don't  want  him.  I  reckon  it  was  a  smart  idee 
o'  mine,  ketchin'  the  young  cub  " 

"  I  think  it  was  a  very  good  idea.  They  would 
certainly  have  butchered  us  before  this  time  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  him." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     TIIK     INDIANS.         215 

"•  I  reckon  they  would ;  but  of  I  knows  myself, 
some  on  'em  would  hev  gone  down  fust." 

"  I  suppose  the  Indians  have  murdered  a  great 
many  people." 

"I  reckon  they  hev." 

"  It's  awful !  "  exclaimed  Fanny,  shuddering,  as 
she  glanced  at  the  place  where  poor  Mrs.  Grant 
lay  cold  and  still  in  death. 

"So  'tis,  but  'tain't  no  use  to  think  on't  now; 
it  makes  a  feller  feel  kind  o'  weak  and  sickly. 
We  must  figur'  it  out  now." 

"  Thanks  to  your  good  management,  we  may  yet 
escape." 

"  I  reckon  we  will.  Did  you  ever  fire  a  pistil, 
Fanny  ?  " 

"  Xo,  but  I'm  not  afraid  to  do  so." 

"  Better  take  this,  then,  and  I'll  use  the  guns. 
I  reckon  it  may  be  of  use  to  you,"  added  he, 
handing  her  the  weapon.  "  Hokee  !  "  suddenly 
exclaimed  he,  as  he  glanced  out  of  the  window. 

"  What  is  it,  Ethan  ?  " 

"  Them  Injins  is  go'n  off ! " 

"  So  they  are." 


216  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

'•  Mebbe  they're  comin'  round  to  try  us  on  t'other 
side  of  the  house.  Ef  they  be,  I'm  thar.  You  hold 
on  to  the  little  Injin,  and  I'll  watch  'em." 

Ethan  went  to  a  window  on  the  front  of  the 
house,  and  soon  returned  with  the  gratifying  intel 
ligence  that  the  redskins  were  actually  moving  off 
in  the  direction  of  the  burning  buildings  to  the 
west  of  them. 

"  How  thankful  we  ought  to  be  that  we  have 
been  saved ! "  said  Fanny.  "  Let  us  thank  .God 
with  all  our  hearts,  Ethan."  . 

"  We  can't  stop  to  do  no  more  prayin'  now, 
Fanny.  Besides,  we  ain't  out  o'  the  woods  yet." 

"  We  need  not  stop  to  pray,"  replied  Fanny, 
devoutly.  "  If  the  prayer  is  in  our  hearts,  God 
will  understand  it." 

"  I'm  thankful,  I'm  sure;  as  a  body  kin  be. 
Xow,  you  git  together  everything  you  kin  find  to 
eat,  and  I'll  git  a  wheelbarrer  to  fetch  'em  down 
to  the  lake.  Ef  we  kin  only  git  on  the  island,  I 
don't  kccr  for  all  the  redskins  this  side  o'  sun 
down." 

Wahena    was    tied    up    in    such    a    way    that    he 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        217 

could  not  escape,  and  Fanny  hurriedly  collected 
everything  in  the  shape  of  provisions  which  had 
escaped  the  depredations  of  the  Indians.  Ethan 
brought  from  the  chambers  an  armful  of  blankets 
and  bed-quilts,  and  the  wheelbarrow  was  loaded 
with  all  it  would  contain.  A  bushel  of  potatoes, 
a  leg  of  bacon,  a  bucket  of  corn-meal,  a  small 
supply  of  groceries,  and  a  few  cooking  utensils, 
constituted  the  stock  upon  which  they  were  mainly 
to  depend  for  sustenance  during  their  banishment 
from  civilized  life  for  they  knew  not  how  long  a 
time.  But  both  of  the  exiles  were  hopeful,  though 
very  sad,  when  they  thought  of  the  death  and 
desolation  they  were  leaving  behind  them. 
19 


218  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 


CHAPTER     XVI. 

THE     YOUNG     EXILES. 

WAHENA,  with  his  hands  still  tied  behind  him, 
was  led  by  Fanny,  while  Ethan  trundled  the  wheel 
barrow,  across  the  handles  of  which  lay  the  two 

• 

guns,  ready  for  use  if  occasion  should  require.  The 
Indians  had  halted  on  one  of  the  little  eminences 
of  the  prairie,  and  appeared  to  be  watching  the  de 
parture  of  the  fugitives  from  their  once  happy  home. 
Lean  Bear  was  evidently  very  fond  of  his  little  son, 
who  was  a  boy  of  bright  promise,  measured  by  the 
Indian  standard.  He  had  exhibited  no  concern  for 
the  mother  while  she  lay  senseless  upon  the  ground, 
but  he  seemed  to  be  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice, 
even  to  the  curbing  of  his  ferocious  nature,  for 
Wahena's  sake. 

The  party  of  Indians  on  the  knoll  appeared  to 
be  impressed  with  the  misfort  me  of  their  leader  in 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         219 

the  loss  of  his  favorite  son.  Though  the  work  of 
rapine  and  death  was  still  going  on  in  the  settle 
ment,  they  did  not  heed  it.  The  messenger  had 
probably  represented  to  Lean  Bear  that  "Wahena 
would  certainly  be  killed  if  he  attempted  to  molest 
the  little  party,  and  the  chief  had  withdrawn  far 
enough  to  remove  all  temptation  on  the  part  of 
Ethan  to  execute  his  threat. 

The  wheelbarrow  was  heavily  loaded,  and  it  was 
hard  work  for  the  prairie  boy  to  move  it  along  over 
the  soft  soil.  On  a  hill,  just  before  the  descent  to 
the  lake  commenced,  he  paused  to  rest  for  a  moment. 
He  was  in  excellent  spirits,  and  was  proud  of  the 
success  which  had  thus  far  attended  his  stratagem. 
He  was  confident  that  he  should  reach  the  island 
in  safety,  where,  having  the  only  boat  on  the  lake 
in  his  possession,  he  was  satisfied  that  he  should  be 
able  to  defend  himself  and  his  companion,  especially 
with  Wahena  as  a  guaranty  for  the  good  behavior 
of  the  Indians. 

Ethan  was  entirely  satisfied  with  himself,  and  he 
was  about  to  resume  the  march  towards  the  lake, 
when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a  noise  in  the 


220  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

direction  opposite  to  that  in  which  Lean  Bear  and 
his  party  had  retreated. 

"  Creation  hokee  !  "  shouted   Ethan. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "   asked  Fanny. 

"  Don't  you  see  the  Injins  comin'  out  of  the 
woods  ? "  replied  he,  as  he  grasped  the  rifle,  and 
raised  it  to  his  shoulder. 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  He,  he,  he  !  "  yelled  the  band  of 
savages,  as  they  rushed  out  of  the  covert  of  the 
trees,  and  ran  towards  the  spot  where  Ethan  stood. 

"  We  are  lost !  "  gasped  Fanny,  almost  overcome 
by  this  new  peril. 

"  No,  we  ain't  lost,  Fanny.  You  keep  a  stiff  upper 
lip.  Lay  right  down  on  the  ground,  behind  the 
wheelbarrer,  and  don't  let  the  varmints  see  you. 
If  they  kim  hyer,  use  that  ere  pistil." 

One  of  the  new  enemies  was  considerably  in  ad 
vance  of  the  others,  as  if  anxions  to  drink  the  first 
blood  of  the  victims  before  him.  Suddenly  he  came 
to  a  halt,  raised  his  rifle,  and  fired. 

"  Creation  hokee ! "  exclaimed  Ethan,  as  the  ball 
whistled  frightfully  near  his  head. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  run  ?  "  asked  Fanny,  in  trem 
bling  tones. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        221 

"  'Tain't  no  use  to  run ;  them  redskins  kin  beat 
you  all  to  pieces  runnin',"  replied  Ethan,  as  he  re 
treated  behind  the  wheelbarrow,  and  resting  the 
rifle  upon  it,  took  careful  aim  at  the  savage  who 
was  in  advance  of  the  others. 

He  fired ;  the  Indian  fell,  and  lay  still  on  the 
ground. 

"  That's  sunthin'  towards  it,  anyhow,"  continued 
Ethan,  encouraged  by  the  success  of  his  first  shot. 
"  Ef  I  kin  fetcli  down  one  more  on  'em,  it  will  make 
the  rest  a  leetle  grain  skeery." 

"  The  other  Indians  are  coming  too,  Ethan,"  said 
Fanny. 

"  Let  'em  kim ;  if  they  do  we  are  safe." 

The  immediate  followers  of  Lean  Bear  were  rush 
ing  towards  the  spot  with  all  their  might.  The 
swiftest  runner  of  the  party  had  far  outstripped  his 
companions,  but  it  was  evident  to  Ethan  and  Fanny 
that  he  was  moving  towards  the  other  band  of 
savages,  rather  than  towards  them.  He  was  shout 
ing  in  his  own  tongue  words  which  were  unintelli 
gible  to  the  white  boy  and  girl.  But  if  the  words 
•were  not  understood,  their  effect  was,  for  the  hostile 
19* 


222  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

band  presently  halted,  and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the 
messenger. 

In  the  mean  time  Ethan  placed  Wahcna  in  a 
position  where  he  could  be  seen  by  all  the  savages, 
and  with  the  revolver  in  his  hand,  stood  in  readi 
ness  to  make  another  demonstration  at  the  life  of 
the  boy  if  it  should  be  necessary.  It  was  not 
needed,  for  all  these  Indians  belonged  to  the  tribe 
of  Lean  Bear,  whose  command  was  law  to  them. 

"  We  are  safe,  Ethan,"   said  Fanny. 

"  So  we  are ;  but  I've  killed  one  Injin,  and  I 
reckon  I  could  kill  some  more." 

"  Don't  you  feel  sorry  you  killed  him  ? "  asked 
Fanny. 

"  Not  ef  I  knows  myself,  I  don't.  I'd  like  to  kill 
the  whole  boodle  on  'cm,  after  what  they've  dul, 
consarn  thar  picters !  I  reckon  we'd  better  be 
go'n  along." 

"  I  think  we  had.  It  is  really  terrible  to  think 
of  killing  a  man." 

"  'Tain't  no  more  terrible  'n  killin'  all  them  women 
'n  childern  up  to  the  settlement,"  replied  Ethan,  as 
he  raised  the  handles  of  the  barrow  and  moved  on. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         223 

"  I  hope  they'll  send  the  sogers  up  here,  and  kill 
off  all  the  Injins  this  side  o'  sundown." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  be  necessary  to  do  that,"  added 
Fanny. 

"  It  ought  to  be  did.  What's  them  Injins  good 
for  but  to  be  shot  ?  I  kinder  wish  they'd  kim,  so  I 
could  have  fetched  down  some  more  on  'em,  consarn 
'em !  " 

"  It  is  lucky  the  party  of  Lean  Bear  was  near 
enough  to  turn  them  back.  We  might  have  been 
killed  before  this  time." 

"  I  dunno,"  replied  Ethan,   shaking  his  head. 

"  You  have  done  nobly,  Ethan ;  but  Wahena  has 
saved  us  so  far." 

"  I  know  that ;  I  ketched  him  for  jest  what  he 
has  did  for  us." 

The  rest  of  the  way  to  the  lake  -\vas  down  a 
gentle  declivity,  and  the  wheelbarrow  moved  more 
easily  than  before.  In  a  short  time  they  reached 
their  destination,  on  the  shore  of  the  beautiful  sheet 
of  water  at  which  was  moored  a  boat.  It  was  not 
such  a  craft  as  the  Greyhound,  in.  which  Fanny  had 
been  accustomed  to  sail ;  it  was  a  bateau,  or  flat- 


224  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OK 

bottomed  boat,  with  very  sharp  slopes  under  the 
bow  and  stern.  It  had  a  keel  and  rudder,  and  was 
provided  with  a  sail. 

The  stores  and  utensils  from  the  wheelbarrow 
were  quickly  transferred  to  the  boat,  and  then  the 
barrow  itself  was  placed  on  board.  The  wind  now 
blew  tolerably  fresh,  and  was  fair  for  reaching  the 
island ;  but  Ethan,  with  all  his  other  accomplish 
ments,  knew  no  more  about  the  management  of  a 
boat  than  of  a  ship,  which  he  had  never  even  seen. 
This  boat  had  been  built  by  Mr.  Grant  and  a  car 
penter  of  the  settlement  during  the  preceding  win 
ter,  and  Ethan  had  never  sailed  in  it  but  once. 

"  I  don't  know  nothin'  about  this  hyer  thing," 
said  Ethan.  "  I  kin  paddle,  but  I  reckon  the  sail 
would  tip  us  over." 

"  I  can  manage  it,"  replied  Fanny,   confidently. 

"  Kin  ye  ?  Did  ye  ever  manage  a  boat  with  a 
sail  ? " 

"  Yes,  once,"  answered  Fanny,  and  she  thought 
with  shame  of  the  cruise  she  had  made  in  the  Grey 
hound.  "  Let  us  hoist  the  sail,  and  we  can  run 
ever  to  the  island  in  a  few  moments." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         225 

Fanny,  assisted  by  Ethan,  hoisted  the  sail,  and 
the  bateau  darted  out  of  the  little  cove  where  she 
had  been  moored.  Wahena,  who  had  been  as  stoical 
in  danger  as  his  race,  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
alarm,  perhaps  called  forth  by  the  novelty  of  the 
situation  and  of  the  peril.  Ethan  was  not  entirely 
satisfied  with  the  movements  of  the  boat  under  sail, 
for  she  careened  under  the  fresh  breeze,  till  her 
gunwale  was  within  an  inch  of  the  surface  of  the 
lake.  Fanny  took  the  helm,  and,  as  she  eased  off 
the  sheet,  which  her  previous  experience  had  taught 
her  to  do  in  such  an  emergency,  the  boat  came  up 
to  an  even  keel,  and  the  confidence  of  the  prairie 
boy  was  fully  restored. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  tipped  over  and  drownded, 
arter  we've  got  away  from  the  Injins,"  said  he,  in 
apology  for  his  timidity. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  fear  the  water,  after  the  ter 
rible  scenes  we  have  passed  through,"  replied  Fanny ; 
"  but  there  is  no  danger." 

"  I  dunno  's  there  is ;  but  even  the  little  Injin 
boy  was  skeered  when  she  tipped  so." 

"  I    ought    to   have    unfastened    this    rope    before 


226  HOrE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

we  hoisted  the  sail,"  added  Fanny,  pointing  to  the 
sheet. 

"  I  ain't  afeerd,  if  you  ain't,  Fanny.  I  don't 
reckon  we  could  'a  paddled  her  over  to  the  island 
in  seven  year." 

"  It  would  have  taken  a  long  time,"  said  Fanny, 
glancing  back  at  the  smoking  buildings  of  the 
settlement. 

She  was  sad  at  heart  when  she  thought  of  the 
murder  and  destruction  which  had  occurred  that 
morning.  It  was  pleasant  on  the  lake,  but  neither 
Fanny  nor  Ethan  was  in  a  condition  to  enjoy  the 
sail.  Each  was  thinking  of  friends  in  the  settle 
ment  who  had  probably  been  slain  by  the  remorse 
less  savages.  Fanny  steered  the  bateau  in  silence, 
till  she  reached  the  shore  of  the  island,  which  was 
about  two  miles  from  the  point  where  the  party  had 
embarked.  It  was  very  small,  containing  not  more 
than  half  an  acre  of  land.  A  single  tree  grew  on 
the  highest  part,  and  all  of  it  was  covered  with 
grass,  like  the  ground  on  the  western  shores  of  the 
lake. 

A  landing  was  effected  under  the  lee  of  the  land, 


FAXN'Y     G  HAN'T     AMONG     THE     INDIAXS.          227 

and  the  cargo  of  the  bateau  removed  to  the  shore. 
Wahena  was  taken  to  the  middle  of  the  island,  and 
fastened'  to  the  tree.  From  this  point  a  view  of 
all  the  surrounding  country  could  be  obtained,  and 
with  ordinary  care  on  the  part  of  the  exiles,  it 
would  be  impossible  for  an  enemy  to  approach 
without  their  knowledge.  The  provisions  and  other 
articles  were  transported  on  the  wheelbarrow  to  the 
tree. 

"  I  should  kinder  like  this,  ef  the  folks  hadn't 
all  been  killed  off,"  said  Ethan,  when  the  work  was 
done,  and  he  had  seated  himself  at  Fanny's  side, 
in  the  shade  of  the  tree. 

"  We  were  very  fortunate  to  escape  with  our  lives, 
Ethan,  and  I  feel  very  thankful,''  replied  Fanny. 

"  So  do  I ;  and  ef  you  want  to  say  your  prayers 
now,  we  hain't  got  nothin'  else  to  do." 

"  I  have  said  them  many  times ;  God  can  hear 
us  even  when  we  do  not  speak  aloud." 

"  I  s'pose  so ;  well,  I  said  mine,  too ;  and  that's 
a  thing  I  don't  do  very  often." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  they  strengthened  your  arm, 
and  made  you  feel  brave." 


228  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  I  dunno  but  they  did ;  but  I  feel  as  though  a 
leetle  grain  o'  breakfast  would  strengthen  my  arm 
most  jest  now." 

Fanny  was  not  very  well  pleased  with  the  manner 
in  which  her  rude  companion  spoke  of  serious  things, 
and  she  improved  the  opportunity  to  embody  the 
prayer  of  her  heart  in  words.  It  was  a  fervent 
utterance,  and  Ethan  seemed  to  join  her  in  spirit. 
Both  of  them  were  grateful  —  not  abstractly  grateful, 
but  grateful  to  God  for  his  mercy  in  saving  them 
from  torture  and  death  at  the  hands  of  the  savages. 

They  sat  in  silence  for  a  moment  after  the  prayer, 
and  then  Fanny  suggested  that  they  should  prepare 
their  breakfust.  Ethan  had  brought  with  him  a 
shovel  and  a  sharp  axe,  and  while  Fanny  was  peeling 
the  potatoes  and  cutting  the  bacon,  he  dug  out  a 
kind  of  fireplace  in  the  side  of  the  hill.  Some  dead 
branches  from  the  tree  supplied  them  with  dry  fuel. 
Fried  ham  and  fried  potatoes  were  soon  provided, 
and  they  sat  down  to  their  morning  meal. 

"  I  should  like  this  fust  rate  if  we  hadn't  been 
druv  away  from  hum  jest  as  we  was,"  said  Ethan. 

"  It  would  be  very  pleasant  if  we  could  forget  the 


FANNY  GBAXT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    229 

poor  people  who  have  been  killed  and  mangled  bj' 
the  savages,"  replied  Fanny,  sadly. 

"  I  reyther  like  campin'  out,  and  travellin'  ove/ 
the  peraries,  as  we  did  when  we  kim  up  hyer." 

"  What  is  to  become  of  us,  after  all,  Ethan  ? " 

"I  dunno ;  we  must  stop  hyer,  I  s'pose." 

"  We  cannot  remain  here  a  great  while." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Our  provisions  will  not  last  many  days." 

"  We  kin  git  more." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  safe  for  us  to  go  over  to 
the  settlement  again." 

"  We've  got  plenty  o'  powder  ?n  shot,  and  thyers 
ducks  and  birds  enough.  And  this  lake 's  full  of 
fish." 

"  But  we  must  leave  some  time.  We  could  not 
stay  here  through  the  winter." 

"  We  kin  git  off  somewhar  bime-by.  I  dunno 
what  all  this  business  means  —  whether  the  Injins 
is  killin'  off  everybody  or  not.  Sunthin'  '11  happen 
one  o'  these  days." 

It  was  impossible  to  plan  for  the  future,  for  no 
one  could  tell  what  a  day  might  bring  forth.  It 
20 


230  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

was  evident  to  the  young  exiles  that  the  lake  set 
tlement  had  been  destroyed,  and  the  greater  portion 
of  the  people  killed,  though  they  had  no  positive 
knowledge  of  the  extent  of  the  horrible  massacre. 
They  did  not  know,  what  was  really  true,  that  the 
onslaught  of  the  savages  extended  over  hundreds 
of  miles  of  territory,  and  that  its  victims  were  num 
bered  by  hundreds. 

When  Ethan  and  Fanny  had  finished  their  break 
fast,  Wahena  was  unbound  and  permitted  to  eat 
all  he  wanted.  His  appetite  did  not  seem  to  be  at 
all  impaired  by  his  imprisonment,  for  he  ate  with  a 
greediness  which  threatened  to  make  serious  inroads 
upon  the  scanty  stock  of  provisions.  While  he 
was  thus  occupied,  Fanny  sang  one  of  her  Sunday 
school  hymns,  a  sad  and  plaintive  air,  which  not 
only  moved  Ethan  to  the  depths  of  his  heart,  but 
visibly  affected  the  little  savage.  Noticing  the  effect, 
she  followed  up  the  impression  until  she  was  sur 
prised  to  see  Wahena  offer  her  his  hand. 


FANXY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         231 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

THE     NIGHT     ATTACK. 

FANNY  sang  "Sweet  Home"  to  the  young  In 
dian,  with  the  feeling  that  there  was  no  longer  a 
spot  on  earth  which  she  could  call  by  that  endear 
ing  name.  By  this  time,  Mr.  Grant,  with  Bertha 
and  Fanny,  were  in  Europe,  and  it  would  he  months 
before  she  could  see  them  again.  Pier  uncle  had 
probably  been  killed  by  the  war  party  of  Lean 
Bear,  while  returning  to  his  home,  as  the  pos 
session  of  his  horses  by  the  Indians  indicated.  Her 
aunt  lay  mangled  and  unburied  near  the  house 
which  had  been  her  happy  home.  The  settlement 
was  doubtless  broken  up  and  deserted ;  for  all  who 
had  not  been  killed  or  captured  by  the  Indians 
must  have  fled  to  the  woods  and  the  prairies  for 
safety. 

The  feeling    of  loneliness   in    Fanny  gave    to   her 


232  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

song  a  touching  pathos,  which,  with  the  sad  sweet 
ness  of  the  melody  itself,  made  the  great  tears 
roll  down  the  bronzed  checks  of  Ethan,  and  touched 
the  heart  of  even  the  young  savage.  Wahena 
looked  long  and  earnestly  at  Fanny,  when  he  had 
finished  his  breakfast.  The  music  pleased  him, 
and  its  charms  literally  soothed  his  savage  breast. 
She  sang  other  songs,  and  he  began  to  make 
friendly  demonstrations  towards  her,  which  ended 
in  the  offer  of  his  hand.  She  accepted  the  prof 
fered  token  of  friendship. 

Wahena  spoke  to  her,  but  of  course  she  could 
not  understand  a  word  of  his  language.  He  made 
signs,  using  the  earnest  gestures  peculiar  to  the 
Indians.  He  shook  his  head,  pointed  to  her,  and 
then  to  the  shore  of  the  lake  in  the  direction  of 
the  settlement.  She  thought  he  meant  to  say  that 
he  would  not  permit  his  father  to  injure  her ;  but 
she  was  not  very  sure.  The  young  savage  was 
certainly  disposed  to  be  her  friend,  and  manifested 
his  interest  in  her  by  all  the  means  within  his 
power. 

"  Well,  Fanny,  it's   about    time   for  me   to  go  to 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        233 

work,"  said  Ethan,  after  he  had  observed  the 
demonstrations  between  her  and  Wahena  for  a 
time. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Ethan  ?  I  thought 
you  had  no  work." 

"  Plenty  of  it,  I  reckon.  'Tain't  no  use  to 
groan  over  what  can't  be  helped.  We  may  as  well 
make  the  best  on't." 

"  Of  course  we  will  not  complain  of  what  we 
cannot  help.  Ethan,  do  you  know  what  my  motto 
is?" 

"  Your  what  ? "  asked  Ethan,  with  a  vacant  stare. 

"My  motto." 

"  That's  sunthin'  in  Latin,  or  some  outlandish 
lingo  —  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Mine  is  in  plain  English." 

"  I've  hearn  tell  of  some  Latin  stuff  they  called 
a  motto  out  in  Illinois ;  I  forgit  what  it  was  now." 

" '  Hope  and  have,''  is  my  motto." 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  'Tain't  Latin,  but  it 
might  as  well  be." 

"  It  means  hope  for  the  best,  and  then  you  will 
work  the  harder  to  have  it." 
20* 


234  HOPE     AMJ     HAVE,     OK 

"  Thet  jest  fits  my  case." 

"  The  motto  was  given  me  by  a  very  good  girl 
in  New  York,  who  was  dying  of  consumption. 
They  were  the  last  words  she  spoke,  and  they  were 
engraved  on  her  tombstone.  I  will  tell  you  the 
whole  story  about  her  some  time." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  it,  fust  rate ;  but  I  reckon 
we've  got  sunthin'  else  to  do  jest  now.  I  hope  we 
shall  hev  sunthin'  like  a  house  for  you  to  sleep  in 
to-night." 

"  Hoping  alone  will  not  build  the  house,  Ethan ; 
besides,  we  don't  hope  much  for  that  which  we  are 
not  willing  to  work  for." 

"  I  know  thet ;  and  I'm  go'n  to  work  on  the 
house  right  away  now,"  replied  Ethan,  as  he  rose 
from  the  ground,  and  took  his  shovel. 

"  I  will  help  you,  for  I  hope  we  shall  have  a 
house  to  keep  us  out  of  the  wet  if  it  should  hap 
pen  to  rain." 

"You  are  nothin'  but  a  gal,"  said  Ethan,  rather 
contemptuously. 

"  But  I  can  help  you.  How  shall  you  build  a 
house  ?  " 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         235 

"Well,  I  don't  quite  know." 

"  I  can  help  you  think,  if  nothing  more,  Ethan." 

"  So  you  kin,  Fanny.  You  are  right  down  smart. 
I  don't  know  as  .we  should  ever  hev  got  over  to 
this  island  ef  't  hadn't  been  for  you."* 

"  Do  you  think  we  could  get  the  boat  out  of 
the  water,  Ethan  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  we  could,"  replied  Ethan,  rubbing  his 
head  to  stimulate  his  ideas.  "  I  kin  cut  some  roll 
ers,  and  kinder  pry  it  along." 

Fanny  minutely  detailed  her  plan  for  a  house, 
which,  after  much  explanation,  was  adopted.  As 
soon  as  Ethan  comprehended  her  idea,  he  became 
very  enthusiastic  for  its  execution. 

"  I  reckon  we  must  tie  up  the  young  Injin  afore 
we  go  to  work,"  said  he,  taking  the  cord,  and 
moving  towards  Wahena. 

The  little  savage  looked  appealingly  at  Fanny, 
placed  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  shook  his  head 
violently,  and  frequently  pointed  to  the  shore  of 
the  lake.  She  interpreted  his  signs  to  mean  that 
he  would  not  attempt  to  escape,  and  she  so  in 
formed  Ethan. 


236  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  I  dassent  trust  him,"  said  he. 

"  He  can't  get  away  if  he  tries,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  But  he  may  take  one  of  the  guns  and  kill  one 
on  us." 

"  Put  all  the  weapons  out  of  the  way,  then,  and 
I  will  keep  watch  of  him,"  added  Fanny,  who 
wished  to  conciliate  Wahena. 

Ethan  consented,  and  climbing  the  tree  with  his 
axe,  he  commenced  cutting  off  the  large  branches 
which  were  to  be  used  in  the  construction  of  the 
house. 

The  plan  which  Fanny  had  devised  was  a  very 
simple  one.  The  slope  of  the  land  on  the  island 
was  about  four  feet  to  a  rod.  The  bateau  was  to 
be  rolled  up  the  acclivity  about  thirty  feet,  and 
turned  bottom  upward.  The  lower  end  was  then 
to  be  gradually  pried  up  until  it  was  level  with 
the  upper  end,  leaving  a  space  of  four  feet  under 
the  higher  part.  Stakes  were  to  be  set  in  the 
ground  under  the  gunwale  to  support  the  boat, 
and  form  the  sides  of  the  house.  The  smaller 
branches  of  the  tree  were  to  be  interlaced  in  the 
stakes,  beginning  at  the  bottom,  and  the  sods  and 


FANNY     GKANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         Zo7 

the  dirt  thrown  from  the  inside  against  this  net 
work,  leaving  the  ground  level  under  the  roof. 

The  bateau  was  sixteen  feet  long  and  five  feet 
wide,  and  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  work  was 
getting  it  out  of  the  water,  and  moving  it  up  the 
hill.  Ethan  and  Fanny  worked  as  hard  as  they 
could  till  sundown  with  rollers  and  levers,  Avhcn 
they  had  the  boat  in  position,  and  the  end  elevated 
to  the  required  level.  Wahena  showed  his  grati 
tude  for  the  freedom  granted  to  him  by  assisting 
in  the  labor,  and  made  himself  very  useful. 

After  the  party  had  taken  their  suppers,  Ethan 
made  a  bed  of  the  blankets  and  quilts  for  Fanny, 
under  the  boat,  covering  the  open  sides  with  the  sail 
and  a  coverlet. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  sleep,  Ethan  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  I  ain't  go'n  to  sleep  nowhar,"  replied  he. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  stay  up  all  night." 

"  That's  jest  what  I'm  go'n  to  do." 

"  What  for  ?  " 

"  S'pose'n  them  Injins  should  kim  over  in  the 
night." 


HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  I  thought  you  said  they  could  not  get  over 
here." 

"  I  reckon  they  can't,  ef  I  keep  my  eyes  open." 

"  But  you  must   sleep." 

"  Ef  I  do,  I  must  do  my  sleepin'  in  the  day 
time.  Ef  we  should  all  go  to  sleep  hyer,  we  might 
wake  up  in  th3  mornin',  and  find  our  throats  cut. 
'Tain't  safe,  nohow." 

"  You  have  worked  hard  to-day,  Ethan,  and  you 
must  be  very  tired." 

"  I  am  kinder  tired." 

"  We  will  take  turns  keeping  watch,  as  they  do 
on  board  a  ship." 

"  I  don't  know  nothin'   about  a  ship." 

"  I  will  keep  watch  the  first  half  of  the  night, 
and  you  may  the  other  half." 

"  S'pose'n  the  Injins  should  kim ;  what  would 
you  do  then  ?  " 

"  I  can  call  you." 

"  Well,  Fanny,  ef  you  ain't  very  tired,  I  agree 
to  it,  for  I  feel  jest  as  ef  I  should  go  to  sleep 
now." 

"  I  am  not  so  tired   as    I    have  been,  and  not  so 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        239 

tired  as  you  are.  I  will  take  the  first  watch.  But 
do  you  really  think  the  Indians  will  come  to  the 
island  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,  but  they  might." 
"How  do  you  expect   them  to  come?" 
"  I  dunno  ;  but  I  shouldn't  wonder  ef  Lean  Bear 
sent  some  of  his  redskins  over  arter  that  boy." 

Fanny  did  not  see  how  the  savages  could  reach 
them  at  this  distance  from  the  main  land,  but  she 
agreed  with  Ethan  that  it  would  be  better  to  keep 
watch,  and  be  on  the  safe  side.  Wahena's  hands 
were  tied  together,  and  he  was  bound  to  one  of 
the  posts  under  the  boat,  in  such  a  manner  that 
he  could  lie  down  and  sleep  comfortably.  Ethan 
stretched  himself  on  the  bed  he  had  prepared  for 
his  companion,  and  was  soon  asleep. 

Fanny  seated  herself  under  the  tree  at  the  top 
of  the  hill.  It  was  not  yet  dark,  and  she  had  a 
full  view  of  the  water  on  every  side.  Until  a  later 
hour  there  was  no  possibility  of  a  hostile  approach 
by  the  Indians,  and  she  gave  herself  up  to  the 
melancholy  reflections  excited  by  the  tragic  events 
of  the  day.  Though  a  great  many  thoughts  passed 


240  HOPE     AXD     HAVE,     OR 

through  her  mind,  there  was  only  one  which  it  is 
important  to  record  here ;  and  that  was,  the  feel 
ing  that  she  was  better  prepared  for  the  bitter 
experience  upon  which  she  had  now  entered  than 
she  would  have  been  a  few  months  before.  If  her 
friends  knew  that  she  Avas  a  changed  being,  the 
fact  was  still  more  evident  to  her  own  consciousness. 
A  religious  faith  and  hope  had  sustained  her  in 
those  terrible  hours,  when  the  shrieks  of  the  man 
gled  and  the  cries  of  the  dying  had  pierced  her 
heart,  and  when  torture  and  death  stared  her  full 
in  the  face.  Ethan,  in  his  own  quaint  terms,  had 
confessed  that  her  prayers  and  her  unwavering  trust 
in  God  had  awed  him  and  solemnized  his  mind, 
thus  raising  him  to  a  level  with  the  momentous 
issues  he  was  to  meet.  She  felt  that  her  prayers 
for  herself  and  the  brave  prairie  boy  had  been 
answered,  not  only  in  their  effect  upon  themselves, 
but  more  directly  in  the  turning  aside  of  the  knife 
which  had  been  pointed  at  their  hearts,  llenewedly 
she  thanked  God  for  his  goodness ;  and  renewedly, 
as  she  thought  of  the  dying  Jenny,  she  felt  that  to 
hope  was  to  have. 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    241 

Thus  thinking  of  the  past,  thus  hoping  and  pray 
ing  for  the  future,  the  darkness  gathered  upon  her, 
and  with  her  mind  thus  illuminated  by  divine  wis 
dom,  the  words  of  the  Psalmist  seemed  to  be  lit 
erally  verified,  and  even  the  darkness  became  light 
about  her.  As  the  shades  of  evening  deepened  over 
her,  cutting  off  her  view  of  the  distant  shores  of 
the  lake,  she  felt  the  necessity  of  a  more  vigilant 
watchfulness. 

Hour  after  hour  wore  heavily  away,  and  still 
Ethan  slept.  Fanny  had  no  idea  of  the  time  of 
night,  and  could  not  tell  whether  or  not  it  was 
time  to  call  her  companion.  She  knew  how  hard 
he  had  worked  during  the  day,  and  she  resolved 
not  to  call  him  as  long  as  she  could  keep  awake 
herself.  Her  position  was  by  the  tree ;  but  in  order 
to  rouse  her  torpid  faculties,  she  took  a  walk  around 
the  island.  When  she  reached  the  side  of  thc»ir 
narrow  domain  where  they  had  landed  in  the  mor  i- 
ing,  she  was  startled  by  what  she  thought  was  a 
slight  splashing  in  the  water,  at  a  considerable  dis 
tance  from  her.  After  the  manner  of  the  Indians, 
she  lay  down  upon  the  ground,  and  placed  her  ear 
21 


242  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

near  t'.ie  surface  of  the  lake,  listening  with  trembling 
interest  for  any  sounds  which  might  be  borne  over 
the  still  waters. 

This  expedient  satisfied  her  that  she  had  not 
been  mistaken  in  the  sound.  She  distinctly  heard 
the  light  dip  of  a  paddle  in  the  water,  worked  with 
the  utmost  caution.  She  was  almost  paralyzed  with 
terror  at  the  thought  of  a  night  visit  from  the 
savages,  and  dreaded  the  sharp  crack  of  the  rifle 
and  the  flashing  of  the  knife.  She  strained  her 
eyes  to  discover  any  object  on  the  water,  but  she 
could  see  nothing.  She  hastened  to  the  house, 
and  roused  Ethan. 

"  I'm  comin',''  said  he,  only  half  awake,  and 
turned  over  to  finish  his  nap. 

"  Ethan,  Ethan  !  "  gasped  Fanny,  shaking  him  with 
all  her  might,  "  the  Indians  are  almost  upon  us." 

If  she  had  said  Indians  before,  it  would  have 
awakened  him  in  a  moment.  He  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  rushed  out  of  the  house. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"The  Indians  are  coming — at  least  some  one  is 
coming,  for  I  heard  a  paddle  on  the  lake." 


THE   NIGHT  ATTACK. 


1'age  243. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        243 

"  The  pesky  sarpints  !  I  was  afeard  they'd  kim. 
Whar  be  they  ?  * 

"  They  are  coming  from  the  settlement." 

"  Consarn  'em. ! "  added  Ethan,  as  he  grasped 
his  two  guns,  and  ran  down  to  the  shore. 

He  listened,  and  soon  satisfied  himself  that 
Fanny's  fears  were  not  groundless.  He  sent  his 
companion  for  the  revolver,  and  proceeded  with 
great  coolness  and  self-possession  to  make  his  prep 
arations  for  repelling  the  assault,  for  he  had  no 
doubt  that  one  was  intended.  It  was  a  full  hour 
—  an  hour  of  the  most  intense  anxiety  and  sus 
pense  to  the  young  exiles  —  before  they  discovered 
the  wily  foe  stealthily  approaching  their  retreat. 

A  little  later  they  could  see  enough  to  determine 
that  the  assailants  consisted  of  four  Indians,  on  a 
raft.  Two  of  them,  on  their  knees,  were  paddling 
the  unwieldy  craft,  and  the  others  appeared  to  be 
gazing  at  the  island. 

Ethan  had  made  a  rest  for  the  rifle  of  a  crotched 
stick,  for  the  piece  was  too  heavy  for  him  to  hold 
up  to  his  shoulder.  He  took  careful  aim  at  the 
group  of  dark  forms  on  the  raft,  and  fired. 


244  HOPE     AND     HATE,    OR 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 

THE     VISITOR     AT     THE     ISLAND. 

"Ho,  wo,  wo!"  yelled  the  savages  on  the  raft; 
and  their  tones  sounded  much  like  the  barking  of 
a  large  mastiff. 

Ethan  saw  one  of  their  number  fall,  and  the  com 
motion  in  the  group  indicated  that  the  savages  had 
been  thrown  into  confusion  by  Ethan's  well-directed 
shot.  They  ceased  paddling,  and  appeared  to  be 
consulting  in  regard  to  their  next  movement. 

"  Lay  right  down  flat  on  the  ground,  so  thet  they 
can't  see  you,  Fanny,"  said  Ethan,  as  he  hastily 
loaded  the  rifle,  on  which  he  principally  depended. 

"Won't  they  go  away  now  you  have  found  out 
they  are  coming  ? "  asked  she,  as  she  obeyed  the 
requirement. 

"  I  dunno ;  we  shall  see.  J  don't  keer  much 
whether  they  go  or  kim.  Keep  still,  and  don't 


FAXNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        245 

move.  I  reckon  they  can't  see  us,  and  don't  know 
jest  whar  to  fire." 

"  They  can  see  you,  Ethan." 

"  No,  they  can't,"  replied  the  resolute  boy,  as  he 
took  careful  aim  a  second  time  with  the  rifle. 

He  fired,  but  apparently  without  any  result,  ex 
cept  another  yell  from  the  savages.  Three  of  them 
couid  still  be  seen  standing  and  kneeling  on  the  raft. 
As  soon  as  the  second  shot  had  been  fired,  they 
reached  their  conclusion,  and  commenced  paddling 
with  all  their  might  towards  the  island.  Ethan 
now  took  the  fowling-piece,  which  he  had  charged 
with  duck-shot,  and  fired  again.  The  Indians  yelled 
as  before,  and  one  of  them  seemed  to  be  wounded, 
for  he  ceased  to  paddle,  and  the  third  man  imme 
diately  took  his  place. 

Both  of  Ethan's  guns  were  now  empty ;  but  he 
had  the  revolver,  Avhich  was  good  for  six  shots, 
though  the  fire  could  hardly  be  effective  at  the 
present  distance  of  the  raft  from  the  island.  Keep 
ing  this  weapon  in  reserve,  he  loaded  the  two  guns 
again.  It  was  very  strange  that  the  Indians  did  not 
fire  at  him,  and  he  could  not  tell  whether  it  was 
21* 


246  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

because  they  had  no  guns,  or  because  they  were 
afraid  of  killing  Wahena.  The  party  had  probably 
been  sent  by  Lean  Bear  to  recover  his  son,  and 
the  success  of  the  expedition  was  to  depend  upon 
finding  the  exiles  asleep.  The  good  judgment  of 
Ethan  had  therefore  saved  them  from  the  calamity 
of  a  surprise. 

When  Ethan  had  completed  the  loading  of  the 
guns,  the  raft  was  within  four  or  five  rods  of  the 
shore  of  the  island,  and  the  Indians  were  paddling 
vigorously,  though  the  unwieldy  craft  they  navigated 
moved  very  slowly  through  the  water. 

"Don't  you  stop  here  no  longer,  Fanny;  'taint 
no  place  for  you,  nohow.  Jest  crawl  up  to  the 
tree,  and  keep  behind  it.  Keep  both  eyes  wide 
open  tight,  but  don't  let  the  redskins  see  you." 

"  But  what  will  become  of  you  ?  "  asked  Fanny,  un 
willing  to  leave  her  bold  defender  even  for  a  moment. 

"  Never  you  mind  me  ;  go  right  off  quick.  Crawl 
up  to  the  tree,  and  I'll  soon  fix  'em." 

"  Ho,  wo,  wo !  "  yelled  the  Indians,  apparently 
satisfied  that  their  work  was  accomplished,  for  the 
raft  was  within  two  rods  of  the  shore. 


.FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        247 

Then  one  of  them  dropped  his  paddle,  and,  with 
an  unearthly  scream,  leaped  into  the  water,  which 
was  now  so  shallow  that  he  could  wade  ashore. 
Ethan  took  good  aim  at  this  one,  and  fired.  Though 
not  killed,  the  sharp  cry  the  savage  uttered  con 
vinced  Ethan  that  he  was  wounded.  Without 
waiting  to  learn  the  effect  of  his  shot  on  the  rest 
of  the  party,  he  fired  again  at  the  same  man,  who 
was  only  partially  disabled.  The  savage  in  the 
water,  who  had  been  the  most  dangerous  assailant, 
uttered  another  yell  of  pain,  and  his  companions 
seemed  to  be  paralyzed  by  the  continuation  of  the 
-  fire  upon  them.  Probably  they  supposed  the  boy 
had  but  one  gun,  and,  when  he  fired  it,  that  he 
would  not  have  time  to  load  again  before  they  could 
reach  him.  Ethan  then  discharged  one  ball  from 
the  revolver,  which  added  still  more  to  their  con 
fusion,  for  they  were  jabbering  like  wild  turkeys. 

"Go  'way!"  shouted  Ethan.  "Go  'way,  or  I'll 
kill  Wahena." 

"  Xo  kill,"  replied  one  of  the  Indians,  whose  voice 
sounded  like  that  of  the  messenger  Ethan  had  met 
in  the  morning. 


248  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  Go  'way  then !  " 

"Me  go." 

"Go  then  —  consarn  ye!"  muttered  Ethan,  as, 
taking  advantage  of  the  confusion  in  the  ranks  of 
the  enemy,  he  loaded  the  two  guns  again. 

The  two  Indians  on  the  raft  helped  the  wounded 
one  in  the  water  to  mount  the  platform  again.  Two 
of  the  three  were  evidently  wounded,  and  it  was  not 
an  easy  thing  for  them  to  paddle  the  clumsy  craft 
away  from  the  island.  One  of  the  savages  worked 
at  the  paddle  for  a  while  ;  but  it  was  not  till  the 
more  able  of  the  other  two  assisted  him  that  any 
sensible  progress  was  made. 

"  Creation  hokee ! "  exclaimed  Ethan,  when  he 
was  fully  conscious  that  he  had  won  the  victory. 
"  I've  done  'em,  Fanny  !  " 

"  Have  they  gone  ? "  she  asked,  when  she  had 
joined  him. 

"  They  are  go'n  as  fast  as  they  kin ;  but  I  reckon 
they  won't  git  back  to  the  settlement  till  some  time 
into  mornin'.  We're  all  right  now,  Fanny,  and  you 
kin  go  to  sleep  as  soon  as  you've  a  mind  to." 

She  wras  too  excited  to  think  of  sleeping,  and  she 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         249 

sat  with  Ethan  on  the  shore  for  an  hour,  talking 
about  their  deliverance  from  the  peril  that  had 
menaced  them.  Fanny  was  devoutly  grateful  to 
God,  who  had  again  preserved  them ;  and  when  she 
had  uttered  the  prayer  her  heart  would  not  permit 
her  to  keep  back,  she  felt  more  composed,  and  re 
tired  to  the  cabin,  where  she  soon  dropped  asleep 
from  sheer  exhaustion. 

This  was  the  only  attempt  made  by  the  savages 
to  capture  the  exiles  on  the  island.  The  next  day, 
they  continued  to  work  upon  the  house,  inter- 
» rupted  only  by  a  heavy  shower  in  the  forenoon ;  but 
the  boat  roof  afforded  them  a  perfect  shelter  from 
the  pouring  rain.  It  was  three  days  before  the 
house  was  finished ;  but  when  it  was  completed,  the 
wanderers  were  as  proud  of  it  as  though  it  had  been 
a  Fifth  Avenue  mansion.  At  night  they  took  turns 
in  keeping  the  watch ;  and  when  the  house  was  done, 
both  of  the  exiles  were  nearly  worn  out  by  the  hard 
work  they  had  done,  and  the  loss  of  sleep  to  which 
they  had  been  subjected.  They  decided  that  it  would 
be  best  to  rest  a  few  days  before  they  commenced 
upon  certain  additions  which  they  contemplated. 


2.50  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OE 

The  stock  of  provisions  was  already  mucli  reduced, 
and  the  question  of  supplies  for  the  future  demanded 
attention.  There  were  plenty  of  fish  in  the  lake, 
but  none  could  be  caught  in  the  shallow  water 
which  bordered  the  island.  It  was  necessary  to  go 
out  a  short  distance,  and  Ethan  found  a  couple  of 
logs  among  some  drift  wood,  gathered  on  the  beach, 
with  which  he  constructed  a  raft,  just  large  enough 
to  accommodate  himself. 

To  prevent  accidents,  he  tied  together  all  the 
lines  which  had  been  used  about  the  sail,  and  pushed 
off  the  length  of  his  rope.  There  were  fish-lines  in 
the  boat,  and  bait  was  obtained  on  the  island.  In 
an  hour  Ethan  returned  to  the  shore  with  a  large 
muskelonge  and  half  a  dozen  large  lake  trout.  The 
problem  of  supplies,  therefore,  seemed  to  be  solved, 
especially  as  there  were  abundant  opportunities  to 
shoot  the  wild  duck,  plover,  and  grouse,  that  visited 
the  little  domain  of  the  exiles. 

However  pleasant  it  would  be  to  follow  out  in 
detail  the  daily  life  of  the  residents  of  the  isle, 
our  space  prevents  us  from  doing  so.  A  fortnight 
of  severe  labor  and  constant  watchfulness  was  passed 


FANNT     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         251 

by  the  exiles,  when  a  great  event  occurred  to  them. 
Ethan  had  one  day  moored  out  his  raft  the  length 
of  the  line  from  the  shore,  on  the  side  of  the  island 
where  they  had  first  disembarked,  when  his  attention 
was  attracted  by  an  object  on  the  water,  in  the 
direction  of  the  settlement.  He  watched  it  with 
interest  and  anxiety,  and  soon  ascertained  that  it 
Avas  a  raft,  on  which  stood  a  single  person,  who  was 
paddling  towards  the  island. 

Ethan  immediately  pulled  in  his  raft,  and  went 
for  his  fire-arms,  which  he  carefully  loaded,  in  readi 
ness  for  a  hostile  visit  from  a  foe.  The  stranger 
approached  very  slowly,  and  the  exiles  were  at  last 
satisfied  that  he  was  not  an  Indian.  As  he  drew 
nearer  to  the  island,  he  waved  a  white  rag,  which  was 
intended  and  understood  as  a  sign  of  peace. 

"  Who  can  it  be  ?  "  asked  Fanny,  greatly  excited 
by  the  incident. 

"  I  dunno ;  can't  tell  yet,"  replied  Ethan. 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  an  enemy  ? " 

"  I  don't  reckon  it  is." 

Both  of  them  continued  to  watch  the  approaching 
visitor,  until  he  had  come  within  twenty  rods  of  the 


252  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

shore.  He  did  not  look  like  any  human  being  that 
Fanny  had  ever  seen  before.  His  clothes  were 
tattered,  and  of  all  colors.  Great  patches  of  tent 
canvas  were  sewed  over  a  tunic  made  of  red  and 
yellow  blankets.  He  wore  Indian  leggins,  and  his 
head  was  covered  with  a  coon-skin  cap.  His  hair 
and  beard,  of  grizzly  gray,  were  tangled  and  matted 
in  knots  and  snarls.  Crossed  on  his  breast  were 
the  straps  by  which  were  supported  his  powder-horn 
and  shot-flask. 

"  What  a  strange-looking  man  !  "  exclaimed  Fanny, 
when  the  raft  had  come  near  enough  to  enable  her 
to  make  out  the  uncouth  object  upon  it. 

"  I  know  him  now,"  replied  Ethan,  "  though  I 
hcvn't  seen  him  afore  for  more  'n  a  year." 

"Who  is  he?" 

"Thet's  Rattlcshag." 

"  Who  ?  " 

"  Ilattleshag  —  leastwise  that's  the  only  name  any 
body  knows  him  by.  He's  a  hunter  'n  trapper  that 
goes  roamin'  round  over  the  pararies." 

"  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"lie  don't  live  nowhar ;  he  goes  travcliin'  round, 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        253 

livin'  on  the  white  folks  and  Injins.  They  say  he 
is  the  best  shot  west  of  the  Miss' sip." 

"He  won't  shoot  us  —  will  he?" 

"No;   he  won't  hurt  nothiri'." 

The  raft  came  up  to  the  shore,  and  the  trapper 
landed. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Rattlcshag  ?  "   said  Ethan. 

The  strange  visitor  made  no  reply,  but  walked 
deliberately  up  to  the  young  exiles,  gave  his  hand 
first  to  Ethan,  then  to  Fanny. 

"  Toler'ble,   consider-in', "   said  he,  at  last. 

"  Whar  did  you  kirn,  from  ?  " 

"  Over  thar,"  he  answered,  pointing  to  the  set 
tlement,  and  shaking  his  head. 

"  Anybody  thar  ?  "  asked  Ethan,  anxiously. 

"  Injins." 

"No  white  folks?" 

"  All  gone :  some  on  'em's  killed,  and  some  on 
'em's  kerried  off.  Awful  times,  everywhar,"  added 
the  trapper,  shaking  his  head  mournfully.  "  Whar's 
the  Injin  boy  ?  " 

"  Up  thyer,"  answered  Ethan,  pointing  to  the 
cabin  where  Wahena  had  been  secured  as  soon  as 
22 


254  HOPE     A>*D     HATE,     OR 

the  raft  was  discovered,  for  another  attack  from  the 
Indians  had  been  anticipated.  "  You  may  let  him 
loose  again,  Fanny." 

She  was  always  glad  to  perform  this  office  for 
her  captive  friend,  and  she  soon  returned  to  the 
shore  with  Wahena. 

"  He's  all  safe  —  ain't  he  ?  "  asked  Rattleshag. 

"  Yes ;  we  hain't  hurt  him ;  and  he's  as  fond  of 
Fanny  as  a  pet  puppy  dog." 

"  Glad  on't.  I  was  tooken  by  the  Injins  over  thar, 
and  got  nigh  bein'  skelped.  Lean  B'ar  let  me  go 
to  kim  over  here  arter  the  boy,"  added  the  trapper. 

"•  We  can't  let  him  go,"  said  Ethan. 

"  I  reckon  you  mought." 

Ethan  explained  in  what  manner  the  presence  of 
Wahena  had  saved  them  from  the  Indians. 

"We  can't  spare  him  till  we  get  out  of  the 
woods  ourselves,"  added  Ethan. 

"  Then  I  must  go  back  and  be  skelped,"  replied 
Rattleshag,  solemnly.  "  I  promised  Lean  B'ar  thet 
I'd  git  the  boy,  or  else  I'd  kim  back  myself;  and 
old  Rattleshag  never  broke  his  word  to  Injin  or 
white  man." 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        255 

"  Thet's  so,"  said  Ethan,  who  knew  the  reputa 
tion  of  the  trapper  for  simple  honesty  and  fidelity. 

"  Hev  you  got  a  boat  ? "  asked  Rattleshng. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  reckon  we  kin  go  down  to  Mankato. 
The  sogers  is  drivin'  the  Injins  back.  Thyer's  ben 
awful  times  all  through  the  country ;  more  'n  a  thou 
sand  men,  women,  and  children  hes  ben  killed. 
I've  trevelled  all  through  from  Big  Stone,  dodgin' 
the  Injins  all  the  way.  They  are  as  savage  as 
painters.  I  kim  down  hyer  to  git  away  from  'em, 
but  I  found  they'd  ben  hyer  too/'  added  the  trap 
per,  with  another  melancholy  shake  of  the  head. 
"  It's  awful." 

Rattleshag  over-estimated  the  number  of  victims 
to  this  terrible  massacre,  though  i>.  has  been  stated 
as  high  as  seven  hundred.  He  relied  to  the  young 
exiles  his  adventures  in  his  long  journey  through 
the  devoted  region  which  had  been  the  scene  of  so 
much  cruelty  and  bloodshed.-  He  told  of  the  men, 
women,  and  children  he  had  seen  lying  dead  and 
mangled  in  the  deserted  settlements  ;  of  the  wounded, 
starving,  and  dying  fugitives  he  had  met-  itr  their 


256  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

flight ;  and  of  the  desolation  which  lay  in  the  track 
of  the  merciless  savages. 

The  listeners  were  appalled  and  horrified  at  the 
sad  and  bloody  tale.  Fanny  wept,  and  Ethan  with 
difficulty  choked  down  the  emotions  which  agitated 
him. 

"  What  shall  be  did  ?  "  asked  the  trapper,  at  last. 
"  Kin  you  let  the  boy  go,  or  shall  I  go  back  and 
be  skelped  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  shall  not  go  back ! "  exclaimed 
Fanny. 

An  earnest  consultation  followed,  and  a  plan  was 
soon  agreed  upon  by  which  Rattleshag  could  be 
saved. 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.        257 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

THE     INDIAN     AMBUSH. 

FANNY  was  the  originator  of  the  scheme  by 
which  it  was  expected  to  save  the  party  from  the 
ferocity  of  the  Indians,  and  enable  the  trapper  to 
keep  his  plighted  faith  with  them.  The  exiles, 
accompanied  by  their  new-found  friend,  were  to 
descend  the  river  in  the  bateau  to  Mankato.  Wa- 
hena  was  to  be  taken  with  them  to  some  point 
above  their  destination,  where  he  was  to  be  deliv 
ered  to  his  friends,  when  his  presence  as  a  hostage 
was  no  longer  necessary  to  the  safety  of  his  captors. 

This  was  thought  to  be  the  only  safe  plan,  for 
even  Rattleshag  did  not  pretend  to  believe  that  the 
Indians  would  not  be  treacherous  when  Wahena 
was  no  longer  in  peril.  It  was  arranged  that  the 
trapper  should  return  to  Lean  Bear,  and  inform  him 
of  the  terms  on  which  his  son  could  be  saved. 
22* 


258  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

He  was  instructed  to  tell  the  savage  chief  that 
Ethan  could  fire  eight  shots  a  minute,  and  that 
Wahcna  would  surely  atone  with  his  life  for  any 
treachery  on  the  part  of  the  Indians. 

Rattleshag  put  off  on  his  raft  again,  and  paddled 
towards  the  settlement.  It  was  late  in  the  evening 
when  he  returned  with  the  intelligence  that  Lean 
Bear  had  accepted  the  terms,  though  very  reluc 
tantly,  for  they  compelled  him  to  send  a  party  of 
his  braves  on  a  journey  of  seventy  miles  to  receive 
Wah  en  a  when  he  was  delivered  up.  Rattleshag 
had  been  obliged  to  argue  the  point  with  him ;  but 
the  assurance  that  the  boy  would  certainly  be  shot 
if  he  did  not  yield,  induced  him  to  comply.  Six 
Indian  horsemen  were  deputed  to  follow  the  boat 
on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  insure  them  against 
any  attack  from  the  wandering  savages  whom  the 
exiles  might  encounter. 

The  next  morning  the  bateau  was  lowered  from 
its  position,  rolled  down  to  the  lake,  and  launched. 
The  muscular  arm  of  the  trapper  rendered  this  a 
comparatively  easy  task,  and  it  was  accomplished 
in  a  few  hours.  The  mast  was  stepped,  the  sail 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         259 

bent  on,  and  the  rigging  adjusted  under  the  direc 
tion  of  Fanny,  who  was  more  familiar  with  such 
matters  than  either  of  her  companions.  Such  pro 
visions  as  remained  were  stowed  on  board,  cooked 
ready  for  use. 

At  noon,  with  a  fresh  breeze  from  the  westward, 
the  party  embarked,  and,  with  Fanny  at  the  helm, 
sailed  for  the  outlet  at  the  north-east  corner  of  the 
lake.  The  party  were  very  much  fatigued  after  the 
hard  work  required  in  making  preparations  for  their 
departure,  and  independently  of  the  exciting  cir 
cumstances  of  leaving  the  island  home,  and  the 
prospect  of  soon  being  in  a  place  of  entire  safety, 
they  enjoyed  the  rest  afforded  by  the  voyage. 

"  What  we  go'n  to  do  when  we  get  to  Mankato, 
Fanny  ?  "  asked  Ethan. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"  Yv'e  hain't  got  no  friends  thar." 

"  Nor  anywhere,"  replied  Fanny,  sadly.  "  I  have 
no  near  relations  now  that  my  uncle  and  aunt  are 
gone." 

"  I  never  had  none ;  but  I  s'pose  I  kin  go  to 
work,  as  I  allers  did,"  added  Ethan,  cheerfully. 


260  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

"  I  doubt  not  we  shall  find  plenty  of  friends.  I 
am  sure  that  Woodville,  where  I  have  lived  the  last 
two  years,  will  be  open  to  me." 

"  I  reckon  we  needn't  borrow  any  trouble  arter 
we  git  out  of  this  scrape.  Ef  we  could  stand 
what  we've  gone  through  with,  we  hain't  got  noth- 
in'  to  fear." 

"  I  have  no  clothes  but  those  I  wear,  and  not  a 
cent  of  money,"  added  Fanny,  rather  disturbed  by 
the  prospect  before  her. 

"I  reckon  'twill  be  all  right,"   said  Ethan. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  will.  I  do  not  mean  to 
complain.  We  have  so  much  to  be  grateful  for, 
that  it  would  be  wicked  to  repine  at  our  lot." 

"  Thet's  my  notion ;  and  we  won't  think  what 
we're  go'n  to  do  till  we  get  to  Mankato." 

This  was  a  wise  resolve,  though  it  would  be 
rather  difficult  to  carry  it  out.  In  a  short  time  the 
bateau  arrived  at  the  outlet  of  the  lake,  and  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  the  exiles  discovered  their 
Indian  escort,  which  had  been  waiting  since  the 
middle  of  the  forenoon  for  them.  At  this  point 
the  serenity  of  the  voyage  was  interrupted,  for  the 


FANNY  GKANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    261 

river  was  crooked,  and  the  navigation  often  very 
difficult.  The  boat  did  not  draw  more  than  a  foot 
of  water,  but  in  some  places  it  was  not  easy  to 
find  even  this  depth. 

Fanny  found  that  all  her  slender  knowledge  of 
boating  was  called  into  use,  for  the  bends  in  the 
river  were  so  frequent  that  the  boat  was  headed 
towards  nearly  every  point  of  the  compass  within 
a  single  hour.  Her  progress  was  necessarily  very 
slow,  and  the  Indians  on  the  shore  soon  began  to 
manifest  their  impatience  by  grunting  and  growling. 
As  the  bateau  proceeded,  Fanny  became  more  skil 
ful  in  its  management.  She  soon  learned  where 
the  deepest  water  might  be  found,  and  instead  of 
attempting  to  cut  across  the  bends,  she  followed 
the  current  round  the  broadest  sweep ;  but,  with 
the  best  she  could  do,  it  was  occasionally  necessary 
for  Ethan  and  Rattleshag  to  resort  to  the  poles  to 
push  her  over  the  shoal  places. 

At  dark  the  question  came  up  whether  the  party 
should  continue  the  voyage  during  the  night,  or 
moor  the  boat,  and  sail  only  by  daylight.  Of  course 
the  Indians  on  the  shore  could  not  continue  the 


262  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

journey  without  stopping  to  rest  and  feed  their 
horses ;  but  a  consultation  was  had  with  them,  and 
it  was  decided  that  the  escort  should  divide  into 
two  parties,  one  on  each  side  of  the  river,  and 
ride  forward  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  then  halt  and 
await  the  coming  of  the  boat.  The  river  had 
received  two  or  three  large  tributaries  above  the 
point  they  had  reached,  and  the  navigation  was 
less  difficult  as  the  stream  became  broader  and 
deeper. 

"  Now,  Fanny,  I  reckon  I  kin  steer  this  boat,'' 
said  Ethan,  after  the  arrangements  had  been  made, 
and  the  escort  had  gone  forward.  "  I  will  make 
up  a  bed  for  you  for' ad,  and  you  shall  go  to  sleep. 
One  on  us  kin  sleep  jest  as  well  as  not,  all  the 
time." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that  myself,"  replied  Fanny. 
"  We  shall  save  a  great  deal  of  time  if  we  can  go 
by  night  as  well  as  day." 

"  I  reckon  we  shall ;  and  the  sooner  we  git  to 
Mankato,  the  better  we  shall  like  it.  The  little 
Injin's  gone  to  sleep  now." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  steer  the  boat,  Ethan  ? " 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         263 

"  I  know  I  kin.  I've  been  kinder  watchin'  the 
thing  ever  sence  we  started,  and  I  reckon  I  know 
sunthin'  about  it,"  replied  Ethan,  as  he  went  for 
ward  to  prepare  a  bed  for  Fanny. 

"  Are  you  not  tired,  Rattleshag  ? "  asked  Fanny 
of  the  trapper,  who  sat  forward  of  her,  gazing  in 
tently  down  the  river,  and  seldom  speaking  a  word. 

"  No,  miss,  I'm  never  tired,"  he  replied. 

"  Where  do  you  sleep  when  you  are  travelling 
over  the  broad  prairies  ?  " 

"  Sometimes  in  an  Indian  tepee,  but  generally 
allers  on  the  ground." 

"  While  the  boat  goes  along  so  well,  two  of  us 
might  sleep,  for  it  is  only  necessary  to  have  one 
at  the  helm." 

"I  kin  stand  it  without  much  sleep,  'miss.  I 
kin  ketch  a  nap  while  I  set  here.  I've  often  slep 
$tandin'  up  agin  a  tree  when  the  wolves  was  thick 
about  me.  Old  Rattleshag  is  tough  and  hard." 

"  Now  your  bed  is  ready,  Fanny,"  said  Ethan, 
coming  aft. 

"  Thank  you,  Ethan  ;  you  are  very  kind,  and  I 
am  tired  enough  to  sleep  like  a  log.  Now,  if  you 


264  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

will  take  the  tiller,  I  will  see  what  kind  of  work 
you  make  of  it." 

Ethan  took  the  helm,  and  at  first  made  the 
usual  miscalculations  of  an  unexperienced  steers 
man  ;  but  Fanny  soon  instructed  him  so  that  he 
steered  very  well,  and  she  went  forward  to  her 
couch.  In  a  whisper  she  said  the  prayer  which 
she  never  omitted,  and  covering  herself  with  blan 
kets,  Avas  soon  fast  asleep. 

After  dark,  the  wind  was  very  light  and  baffling, 
but  the  river  was  not  so  tortuous  in  its  course,  and 
the  progress  of  the  boat  was  rather  more  satisfac 
tory  than  it  had  been  during  the  afternoon.  Ethan 
was  very  considerate  of  his  fair  companion,  and 
neglected  her  injunction  to  call  her  in  a  few  hours. 
He  had  given  the  helm  to  Rattleshag  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  night,  and  gone  to  sleep  himself.  At 
daylight  the  trapper  was  at  his  post,  and  both  the 
young  exiles  were  still  sleeping  away  the  fatigues 
of  the  preceding  day.  The  boat  had  not  fet  come 
up  with  the  escort,  who  had  probably  gone  more 
than  the  fifteen  miles  agreed  upon. 

Rattleshag  sat  at  the  helm,  gazing  fixedly  down 


FANNY     GRANT    AMONG    THE    INDIANS.        265 

the  river.  He  looked  like  a  statue,  and  he  sat  so 
still  that  it  was  hard  to  believe  he  ever  had  moved, 
or  ever  would  do  so.  His  long  rifle  lay  at  his  side, 
at  rest  like  himself. 

The  bateau  was  approaching  a  clump  of  trees 
which  grew  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  when  the 
crack  of  a  rifle  was  heard,  and  a  bullet  whizzed 
over  the  water.  Rattleshag  started,  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  grasped  the  tiller  with  his  left  hand, 
while  the  blood  trinkled  down  the  ends  of  his 
fingers  from  a  wound  in  his  right  arm.  He  glanced 
hastily  around  him,  and  then,  putting  the  helm  up, 
ran  the  boat  alongside  the  shore  opposite  that  from 
which  the  shot  had  come.  The  bateau  grounded  in 
the  shallow  water,  and  her  grating  upon  the  gravel 
roused  Ethan  from  his  slumber. 

"  The  Injins  is  firm'  on  us,"  said  Rattleshag, 
coolly,  as  he  took  up  his  long  rifle. 

"  Whar  be  they?"  demanded  Ethan,  seizing  his 
weapons. 

"  Over  thar,"  replied  the  trapper,  pointing  to  the 
clump  of  trees. 

The  first  shot  was  now  followed  by  a  second, 
23 


266  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OE 

which  fortunately  hit  none  of  the  party.  By  this 
time  Fanny  was  awake ;  but  Ethan  peremptorily 
bade  her  lie  still,  so  that  the  hostile  Indians  could 
not  see  her.  Near  the  point  where  the  boat  had 
grounded  there  was  a  group  of  trees,  which  prom 
ised  to  afford  the  voyagers  a  partial  shelter  from 
the  bullets  of  the  enemy,  and  Rattleshag  thought 
they  had  better  take  a  position  there. 

"  Now  run  for  it,''  said  Ethan  to  Fanny,  as  he 
gave  her  the  revolver. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  replied,  as  she  took  the 
pistol  and  ran  to  the  covert  of  the  trees. 

Ethan  and  the  trapper  followed  her ;  but  the 
moment  they  showed  themselves,  the  report  of  sev 
eral  rifles  was  heard,  followed  by  the  whistling  of 
the  bullets  through  the  air,  though  the  distance 
was  so  great  that  the  shots  were  harmless. 

"  Now,  we'll  give  'em  some,"  said  Ethan. 

"  'Tain't  no  use,"  answered  Rattleshag,  seating 
himself  on  the  ground  behind  one  of  the  trees. 
"  Don't  waste  your  lead  for  nothin'.  You  can't 
hit  'em." 

"But  they  have  hit  you.     Are  you  hurt  much?" 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         267 

"No;  'tain't  wuth  mindin'." 

"  Let  me  do  up  your  wound,  Rattleshag,"  inter 
posed  Fanny,  tearing  off  a  piece  of  her  calico 
dress  for  the  purpose. 

"  The  blood  kinder  bothers  me,  and  you  may," 
said  the  trapper,  as  he  bared  his  muscular  arm. 

The  ball  had  ploughed  through  the  fleshy  part 
of  the  arm,  inflicting  a  severe,  though  not  danger 
ous,  wound.  Fanny  bound  it  up  as  well  as  she 
could,  with  lint  made  from  her  linen  collar,  and 
Rattleshag  declared  that  it  felt  "  fust  rate." 

Wahena  was  still  in  the  boat,  where  Ethan  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  tie  him  to  the  mast,  after 
first  binding  his  arms  behind  him.  lie  still  lay  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,'  the  consciousness  of  his 
own  danger  preventing  him  from  showing  himself. 

"  We  mought  hev  to  stop  here  all  day,"  said 
the  trapper,  after  they  had  waited  some  time  for  a 
further  demonstration  on  the  part  of  the  Indians. 

"  As  long'  as  we  are  safe,  we  need  not  mind 
that,"  replied  Fanny. 

"  I  reckon  we  ain't  safe  much,"  added  Ethan. 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  before  a   sav- 


268  HOPE   AND   HAVE!,    OK 

age  yell  was  heard  from  the  enemy  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river. 

"  They're  jumpin'  inter  the  water  to  kim  over 
here,"  said  llattleshag.  "  I  don't  like  to  shoot  'em, 
but  I  s'pose  I  must." 

"  I  like  it,"  replied  Ethan,  who  had  not  yet 
conquered  his  hatred  of  the  redskins. 

"  Don't  be  'n  a  hurry,  boy.  Don't  waste  your 
lead,"  interposed  the  trapper,  as  Ethan  was  taking 
aim.  "  There  ain't  no  more  'n  six  on  'em  in  the 
water,  and  we  kin  afford  to  wait  till  they  git  a 
little  nearer.  "\Ve  kin  fire  shots  enough  to  kill  the 
whole  on  'em  without  loadin'  up." 

"  Who  be  they  ? "  asked  Ethan,  trying  to  be  as 
cool  as  the  hardy  trapper. 

"  I  dunno." 

"  Be  they  Lean  B'ar's  men  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  ain't." 

"  I  was  afeerd  the  redskins  that  kim  down  to 
keep  us  safe  had  turned  agin  us." 

"  I  reckon  they  hain't.  They'd  be  afeerd  we'd 
shoot  the  boy." 

The  half  dozen  savages  in  the  water  were  wading 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         269 

across  the  river  towards  the  bateau,  evidently  in 
the  belief  that  the  party  had  deserted  her.  They 
continued  to  hoot  and  yell,  while  they  advanced, 
as  though  they  intended  to  storm  a  garrisoned  for 
tress,  instead  of  capturing  a  deserted  bateau. 

"  I  reckon  thet'll  do  now,"  said  Rattleshag,  as 
he  raised  his  long  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  and  aimed 
at  one  of  the  savages.  "  Don't  you  fire,  Ethan, 
till  I've  done." 

He  discharged  his  piece,  and  fully  sustained  his 
reputation  as  a  dead  shot,  for  the  foremost  of  the 
Indians  dropped,  and  was  carried  down  the  stream 
by  the  current. 

23* 


270  HOPE     AND     HATE,    OK 


CHAPTER     XX. 

CONCLUSION. 

"  DON'T  you  fire,  Ethan,"  repeated  the  trapper,  as 
the  enthusiastic  boy  raised  his  gun.  "  Xo  need  o' 
killin'  no  more  on  'em." 

The  remaining  Indians  in  the  water  had  discovered 
their  mistake,  and  were  making  towards  the  opposite 
shore  with  all  possible  haste.  They  had  not  ex 
pected  such  a  reception,  and  appeared  to  be  glad  to 
escape  with  no  greater  loss. 

"•  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  "  shouted  other  Indians  on  the  shore. 

"  We  are  gittin'  into  a  bad  scrape,"  said  Ethan, 
dissatisfied  because  Rattleshag  had  prevented  him 
from  firing  at  the  savages.  "  There's  more  'n  a  mil 
lion  on  'em  over  thar." 

"Them's  Lean  B'ar's  Injins  that's  yellin'.  Don't 
you  see  'em  ?  They  was  nigh  enough  to  hear  the 
shootin'  and  the  yellin',  and  they've  kim  back  to 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         271 

keep  them  redskins  from  hurtin'  on  us  —  don't  you 
see  ? "  added  Rattleshag,  pointing  over  at  the  three 
mounted  savages  who  had  just  dashed  up  to  the  bank 
on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 

"  So  they  be ;  and  hyer  kirns  the  rest  on  'em." 

At  this  instant  the  other  three  of  the  escort 
galloped  wildly  over  the  prairie,  and  before  the 
voyagers  could  reach  the  boat  the  Indians  intercepted 
them.  Like  those  on  the  other  side,  they  uttered 
Avild  yells,  and  seemed  to  be  as  much  excited  as 
though  they  had  been  actually  engaged  in  battle. 

The  exiles  had  not  intended  to  hold  any  commu 
nication  with  their  escort,  dreading  the  treacherous 
nature  of  the  savages ;  and  when  the  three  Indians 
approached,  Ethan  promptly  placed  himself  in  a  de 
fensive  attitude.  Though  the  escort  continued  to 
yell,  they  did  not  offer  to  attack  the  voyagers. 
They  stopped  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  where  the 
bateau  lay.  One  of  them  dismounted,  and  leaped 
into  the  boat.  \Vith  his  scalping-knife  he  cut  the 
bonds  of  Wahena,  and  taking  the  boy  in  his  arms, 
bounded  to  the  shore  again. 

Ethan's  heart  sank  within  him,  when  he  saw  that 


272  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

the  captive,  upon  whose  presence  he  had  relied  for 
the  safety  of  the  party,  was  wrested  from  them. 
Rushing  forward  with  his  rifle,  he  took  aim  at 
"Wahena,  disregarding  the  earnest  remonstrances  of 
Rattleshag. 

"  No  shoot !  no  shoot ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the 
savages  —  the  one  who  had  before  acted  as  Lean 
Bear's  messenger.  "  No  kill,  no  hurt." 

"  Don't  fire,"  pleaded  Fanny.  "  If  you  should  kill 
Wahena,  they  would  butcher  us  all." 

The  Indian  boy  saw  her  as  she  stepped  forward, 
and  immediately  began  to  talk  in  the  most  earnest 
manner  to  the  savage  who  held  him. 

"  No  hurt !  "  shouted  the  spokesman  of  the  In 
dians.  "  You  go  —  no  kill ;  no  kill,  no  hurt." 

Wahena,  after  struggling  for  some  time  with  the 
brawny  savage  who  held  him,  escaped  from  his 
grasp,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  the  voyagers,  rushed 
over  to  the  spot  where  Fanny  stood.  Seizing  her 
hand,  he  shook  it  warmly,  and  then  began  a  series 
of  violent  gesticulations,  which  were  at  first  unin 
telligible.  He  dropped  on  his  knees,  clasped  his 
hands,  looked  up  to  the  sky,  and  then  beat  his 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         273 

breast.  He  pointed  to  the  boat,  intimating  by  his 
signs  that  she  was  to  go  on  board.  She  obeyed, 
and  was  followed  by  Ethan  and  the  trapper.  The 
party  stepped  on  board,  and  to  the  astonishment 
of  all,  "Wahena  followed  them,  and  took  the  seat 
he  had  occupied  during  the  voyage. 

Ethan  and  Rattleshag  pushed  off,  and  when  the 
bateau  began  to  move  down  the  river,  Wahena 
shouted  to  the  Indians,  and  pointed  down  the  river, 
indicating  that  they  were  to  follow,  as  they  had 
done  before.  The  Indian  boy's  signs  on  shore  were 
now  interpreted  to  be  an  expression  of  his  gratitude 
to  Fanny  for  her  kindness  to  him,  and  a  prayer  to 
the  Great  Spirit  for  her  safety. 

If  the  party  in  the  boat  were  surprised  at'  the 
singular  conduct  of  Wahena,  the  Indians  on  shore 
were  still  more  astonished ;  but  he  spoke  a  language 
which  they  could  understand,  and  they  sullenly  re 
sumed  their  march  down  the  river. 

The  captive  was  now  treated  as  a  friend.  Though 
he  could  not  have  known  what  the  contract  between 
his  father  and  the  voyagers  had  been,  except  so  far 
as  he  had  learned  it  from  the  subsequent  events, 


274  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

he  had  voluntarily  surrendered  himself,  and  insisted 
upon  seeing  Fanny  conveyed  to  a  place  of  safety. 
Almost  every  day  while  they  had  been  on  the  is 
land,  she  had  sung  her  sweet  songs  to  Wahena, 
and  he  had  listened  to  them  with  rapt  attention. 
As  the  boat  slowly  went  its  way,  he  begged  her  by 
signs  to  sing,  and  she  complied.  He  expressed  his 
pleasure,  which  was  shared  by  Ethan  and  Rattleshag, 
by  the  most  eloquent  signs. 

During  the  day,  Ethan  and  Rattleshag  slept,  while 
Fanny  steered  the  boat.  Wahena,  no  longer  in 
bonds,  kept  close  to  her.  He  intimated  in  his 
dumb  language  that  he  wanted  to  take  the  helm, 
and  gently  ^took  the  tiller  from  her.  He  was  soon 
proficient  in  steering,  for  there  was  now  nothing  to 
do  but  keep  the  boat  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and 
occasionally  to  trim  the  sail. 

At  night  Fanny'and  Wahena  went  to  sleep  again, 
and  the  management  of  the  boat  was  divided  be 
tween  Ethan  and  the  trapper.  The  next  morning 
i 

the  bateau  had  entered  the  Big  Woods,  and  the 
sail  was  nearly  useless,  for  the  forest  obstructed  the 
wind,  and  the  voyagers  were  mainly  dependent  upon 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         275 

the  current  of  the  river  for  the  little  progress  they 
made ;  but  on  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day  of  the 
journey,  they  came  in  sight  of  a  town,  which  Rattle- 
shag  said  was  not  more  than  twelve  miles  from 
Mankato.  The  Indian  escort  then  hailed  the  boat. 

"  No  go  more,"  said  the  spokesman. 

"  I  reckon  'twon't  be  safe  for  'em  to  go  any  fur 
ther,"  added  Rattleshag. 

Fanny  ran  the  boat  up  to  the  shore,  and  Ethan, 
always  dreading  the  treachery  of  the  savages,  kept 
his  gun  and  revolver  in  readiness  for  immediate  use. 
The  time  had  come  for  Wahena  to  take  leave  of  the 
party.  He  was  profoundly  affected  at  the  thought 
of  bidding  adieu  to  Fanny ;  he  did  not  appear  to 
like  Ethan  or  the  trapper.  He  pressed  her  hand, 
looked  very  sad,  and  made  his  demonstrative  ges 
tures.  She  kissed  him  on  the  cheek,  pointed  up  to 
the  sky,  and  laid  her  hands  upon  his  head.  If  she 
could  have  spoken  to  him,  she  would  have  expressed 
the  wish  that  he  would  abandon  the  savage  life  of 
his  people,  and  become  a  true  man ;  and  she  would 
have  been  glad  to  teach  him  the  religion  of  the 
Saviour,  now  so  dear  to  her,  and  to  show  him  how 
to  hope  and  have. 


276  HOPE     AND     HAVE,    OR 

Wahena  turned  slowly  and  sadly  away  from  her, 
and  walked  to  the  Indians  who  were  waiting  for 
him.  A  stout  fello.w  lifted  him  on  the  horse  in 
front  of  him,  and  dashed  away ;  but  Fanny  could  see 
him  trying  to  obtain  a  last  view  of  her,  as  the 
savages  entered  the  forest.  She  missed  him  very 
much  as  the  boat  continued  on  her  course.  The 
Indian  boy  was  much  attached  to  her,  and  she  found 
herself  much  interested  in  him.  She  has  not  seen 
him  since  they  parted,  and  probably  they  never  will 
meet  again  in  this  world ;  but  her  blessing  will  go 
with  him,  and  perhaps  her  gentle  influence  will 
soften  his  savage  nature,  and  be  reflected  in  his 
kindness  to  the  wrhite  people  with  whom  he  may 
come  in  contact. 

At  sundown  the  bateau  passed  into  the  Minnesota, 
and  at  dark  the  party  landed  at  Mankato,  only  three 
miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Blue  Earth,  on  which 
the  last  part  of  the  voyage  had  been  made. 

We  need  not  say  that  the  party  found  plenty  of 
warm  friends ;  for  when  it  was  known  that  they 
were  fugitives  from  the  Indian  massacre,  every  house 
and  every  heart  was  open  to  them.  Troops  in  large 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         277 

numbers  had  gone  forward  for  the  suppression  of 
the  insurrection,  and  confidence  was  in  a  great 
measure  restored.  The  place  was  full  of  people 
who  had  escaped,  and  the  savages  were  being  cap 
tured  and  sent  hither  for  trial. 

The  party  were  accommodated  at  the  house  of  a 
trader,  who  supplied  them  with  all  they  wanted, 
both  of  food  and  clothing.  It  was  now  time  to 
think  of  the  future.  By  the  merciful  interposition 
of  Providence,  the  exiles  had  been  saved  from  death 
and  captivity ;  but  they  had  no  home,  and  no  rela 
tions.  Fanny  knew  what  a  warm  welcome  awaited 
her  at  Woodville,  and  she  was  desirous  of  going 
there ;  but  she  had  no  money  to  pay  for  such  a 
long  journey.  She  mentioned  her  wish  to  the 
trader,  and  he  promptly  offered  to  advance  her  a 
sufficient  sum  to  enable  her  and  Ethan  to  reach 
their  destination. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Rattleshag  ? "  asked 
Fanny,  when  her  own  and  Ethan's  future  move 
ments  had  been  arranged. 

"  I  dunno." 

"  Why  don't  you  join  the  sogers,  and  help  put 
24 


278  HOPE     AND     HAVE,     OR 

down  the  Injins  ? "  asked  Ethan.  "  You  are  a 
dead  shot,  and  they'd  like  to  hev  you." 

"  I  can't  do  thet,"  replied  Ixattleshag,  shaking 
his  head. 

"  Why  not  ?  They  want  all  the  good  men  they 
kin  git,  and  you'd  be.  wuth  a  heap  to  'em,  for  you 
know  all  about  the  Injins,  —  whar  to  find  'em, 
and  how  to  trap  'em,"  added  Ethan,  with  consid 
erable  warmth ;  and  he  was  a  little  inclined  to 
offer  his  own  services. 

"  The  Injins  hes  allers  ben  my  friends,  and  I 
don't  want  to  help  kill  'em.  They've  ben  abused, 
and  thet's  what  made  'em  rise  up  agin  the  whites. 
They've  ben  cheated  out  of  their  land,  and  then 
cheated  out  of  the  money  they  ought  to  hev  fur 
it.  I  pity  'em,  and  I  shan't  help  kill  'em.  I  shall 
go  back  to  the  woods  when  the  fightin'  's  over,  and 
live  like  I  allers  did." 

The  next  day  Ethan  and  Fanny  shook  hands 
with  Rattleshag,  and  bidding  him  a  cordial  good 
by,  started  upon  their  long  journey  to  the  east 
ward.  The  prairie  boy  was  greatly  excited  at  the 
prospect  of  seeing  the  great  cities  of  the  country 


FANNY     GRANT     AMONG     THE     INDIANS.         279 

through  which  he  was  to  pass.  On  cars  and 
steamers  where  it  was  known  that  the  boy  and 
girl  were  refugees  from  the  great  Indian  massacre, 
they  were  the  lions  of  the  hour.  They  were  often 
called  upon  to  tell  their  story  of  peril  and  death, 
and  every  one  was  kind  and  generous  to  them. 
They  were  frequently  invited  to  private  houses  on 
the  journey  ;  but  they  declined  all  invitations,  and 
hurried  on  as  fast  as  steam  could  convey  them  to 
their  destination,  and  arrived  at  "Woodville  without 
even  stopping  to  sleep  a  night  on  the  way. 

Mrs.  Green  gave  the  exiles  a  motherly  welcome. 
The  fact  that  the  massacre  had  extended  to  the 
settlement  where  Fanny's  uncle  resided  had  been 
published  in  the  newspapers,  and  the  housekeeper 
and  servants  believed  that  she  had  been  one  of  its 
victims.  She  was  welcomed,  therefore,  as  one  who 
had  come  from  the  grave.  Ethan  was  regarded  as  a 
hero  at  the  mansion  and  in  its  vicinity,  and  became 
a  person  of  no  little  distinction. 

Ethan  French  was  a  young  man  of  no  little  man 
liness  and  independence).  After  he  had  spent  a 
week  in  idleness,  and  had  told  the  story  of  his 


280  HOPE      AND     HAVE,      OR 

escape  from  the  Indians  till  it  had  become  tiresome 
to  him,  he  began  to  look  about  him  for  a  situation 
in  \vhich  he  could  earn  his  own  living.  But  Mrs. 
Green  induced  him  to  remain  at  Woodville  until 
the  return  of  Mr.  Grant ;  and  he  worked  in  the 
garden  and  stable. 

Without  waiting  for  instructions  from  Mr.  Grant, 
the  housekeeper  forwarded  to  the  kind-hearted 
trader  the  sum  of  money  which  he  had  advanced 
to  pay  the  expenses  of  Fanny  and  Ethan  from 
Mankato  to  Woodville.  The  money  was  accom 
panied  by  a  letter  of  thanks  from  Fanny. 

In  November,  the  family  returned  from  Europe. 
Mrs.  Green  had  already  informed  them  by  letter 
of  the  safety,  and  of  the  arrival  at  Woodville,  of 
Fanny  Jane,  as  she  was  called  in  the  house.  Mr. 
Grant  and  his  daughters  had  suffered  a  great  deal 
of  anxiety  on  her  account,  after  they  read  the 
intelligence  of  the  massacre,  and  they  were  heartily 
rejoiced  to  meet  her  again,  after  believing  for 
months  that  she  was  dead,  or  worse  than  dead  — 
a  captive  in  the  hands  of  the  barbarous  Indians. 

Ethan,    awkward   and   unaccustomed   to   good  so- 


FANNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    281 

ciety,  was  overwhelmed  by  the  kindness  of  what 
he  called  the  "  grand  people."  He  was  invited 
into  the  drawing-room,  and  from  him  and  Fanny 
a  very  correct  account  of  their  adventures  Avas 
obtained. 

"  Fanny  Jane,  I  can  hardly  believe  you  are  the 
same  girl  I  had  in  my  charge,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Fanny,  when  both  stories  had  been  told  and  dis 
cussed. 

"  But  I  am,"   said  the  orphan  girl,  with  a  blush. 

"  I  am  sure  none  of  us  would  have  behaved  so 
well  in  the  midst  of  such  trials,"  added  Mrs.  Sher 
wood.  "It  is  terrible  to  think  of." 

"  You  cannot  tell  how  thankful  I  am  that  all 
this  happened  after  my  visit  to  New  York,"  con 
tinued  the  returned  wanderer.  "  I  could  not,  if  I 
would,  banish  from  my  thoughts  the  image  of  Jenny 
Kent,  who  led  me  to  believe  in  truth  and  goodness, 
and  to  strive  to  live  for  them." 

"  I  should  hev  been  skeered  to  death  eft  hadn't 
been  for  Fanny.  She  was  so  good  that  she  made 
me  feel  strong." 

"  And  this  is  our  Fanny  Jane  ! "  added  Mr.  Grant. 
24* 


282  HOPE     AND      HATE,     OR 

"  I  have  tried  to  be  good  all  the  time,"  replied 
Fanny,  wiping  away  a  tear  she  could  not  repress. 

"  And  you  hev  been  ! ''  ejaculated  Ethan,  with 
emphasis.  "  Creation  hokee  !  nobody  couldn't  do 
no  better,  nohow  !  " 

The  family  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  ear 
nestness  of  Ethan. 

"  She's  been  the  makia'  o'  me,  ef  I  ever  do  come 
out  anywhere,"  he  continued. 

"  I  have  taught  him  to  believe  in  goodness,  to 
hope  for  it,  and  then  labor  to  have  it,"  said  Fanny 
•Tane. 

"  Hope  and  have,"  added  Miss  Fanny. 

Mr.  Grant  promptly  decided  that  Ethan's  great 
est  need  was  a  better  education,  and  the  prairie 
boy  went  to  school  with  Fanny  during  the  following 
winter.  In  the  spring  he  talked  like  a  civilized 
being ;  did  not  say  "  hyer "  for  here,  nor  "  kirn " 
for  come,  and  has  banished  "  creation  hokee "  from 
the  list  of  his  pet  phrases.  In  the  summer  he 
went  to  learn  the  trade  of  a  machinist,  for  which 
he  has  decided  taste  and  ability,  and  the  prospect 
is,  that  he  will  become  a  good  and  useful  man,  if 
not  a  brilliant  one. 


FAXNY  GRANT  AMONG  THE  INDIANS.    283 

Mrs.  Kent's  husband  returned  home  during  Fan 
ny's  absence,  having  been  "  sick  and  in  prison "  in 
the  rebel  country.  When  he  had  drawn  his  pay, 
he  insisted  upon  returning  to  Mr.  Grant  the  sums 
advanced  to  his  wife  by  her  kind  friends ;  but  they 
persistently  refused  to  accept  them.  He  wept  over 
his  lost  child,  and  thanked  God  for  raising  up  such 
friends  for  her  while  he  was  absent. 

Fanny  still  resides  at  Woodville ;  and  having  now 
completed  her  school  course,  she  assists  Mrs.  Green 
in  the  management  of  the  house.  She  is  still  true 
to  her  high  resolves  ;  still  wears  the  emblematic 
anchor,  and  strives  to  be  as  pure  and  good  as 
Jenny  was.  She  occasionally  visits  the  grave  of 
her  departed  young  friend,  and  always  gathers  new 
inspiration  and  new  strength  for  the  battle  of  life, 
as  she  reads  on  the  marble  tablet  her  dying  words 
—  HOPE  AND  HAVE. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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